The Flower of Battle
by Blood Dark Sun
Summary: AU. Artos is a child of the Night elves. Lovino is a Day elf, and therefore an enemy of Artos' clan. But in the secret time just before sunrise, the two form a bond that will blur those lines. Can this bond be enough to bring peace to both clans before the White Horde attacks? Engmano.
1. The Truth, Concealed

_Many of the human names don't work well in a fantasy AU, so I've tried to give everyone a recognizable name that fits into this kind of a setting. I hope you don't find it too jarring. The only really unusual name I chose was "Cornel" for Germania; this is explained in the footnotes below._

…

**The Truth, Concealed.**

Leaves shifted in the silent breezes. The night sky, spangled with stars, arched overhead like a protective and concealing shield. Wildlife was beginning to stir, and Artos, surrounded by peaceful nature, smiled.

His body always sensed when his long shift on guard duty began to draw to a close; he stretched. Artos pushed the hood of his grey silk cloak back, exposing his pale blue skin to the chill of the pre-dawn air. At this point, the elf's only thoughts were whether there might be something tasty to eat at the barracks when he returned (not likely; everyone always got back before him and ate all the good things), and whether he would be able to spend any time with Elfred before he went to sleep. He knew Elfred was on East Gate tonight but Artos had been assigned to the riverbank patrol.

Artos was a clan orphan. He had never known his parents. His earliest memories were of playing with Elfred, whose mother and father had raised them as brothers. They had swum, played, fought together all their lives. Once he'd comprehended his status (patiently explained to him at twelve by a loving foster father), Artos had always taken care to let Elfred win every contest, every time. It would not do for the cuckoo in the nest to outshine the legitimate son.

It had only been recently, in the last year, that Artos had felt himself drawing closer to Elfred in a different, more subtle way. Now when they talked, his eyes focused on the movement of Elfred's lips, the timbre of his voice; the other elf's stronger, more muscled body had a powerful appeal that the slighter Artos could never hope to attain himself. Elfred's pure blue eyes constantly twinkled, and they invaded Artos' dreams. But he was content to wait until Elfred came to an awareness of his adulthood. Although they were the same age, his foster brother still seemed a child much of the time. Thankfully, no other had yet claimed Elfred's heart. Artos waited and watched for the right time to approach him.

This section of the ancestral lands was where he and Elfred had grown up. Artos, uncomfortable with his developing feelings for his foster brother, had eagerly taken the opportunity to move into the barracks, but Elfred still lived with his parents nearby. When their troop was posted elsewhere, Elfred would join his companions in the new barracks, but here, he was permitted to live at home, and did.

Artos thought about the barracks, and he thought about patrols. These patrols were useless, he concluded, as he did every night. Their king, Cornel, fancied himself a war leader and maintained active training, warriors making the rounds of the perimeter walls every night, although there had been no wars, no battles, not even any skirmishes, since Artos had begun to be aware of such things as a child. He wondered whether Cornel thought that this was doing any good in the long run. Perhaps the king had only implemented this sort of thing to keep the young elves otherwise out of trouble, give them something to focus upon. Certainly all the young boys would rather train as warriors than farmers, even if they never actually did anything with their training.

The blond elf turned in place, scanning the vista that surrounded him. The Night elves had taken a random forest and tamed it, nestling their dwellings at the feet of the old majestic trees; where possible, the clan had built its protective wall to curve around existing trees, rather than chopping them down simply to build the wall in a straight line. From where he stood Artos could not even see the wall, several hundred feet behind him, camouflaged as it was by foliage of trees and wild roses. He smiled and ran his pale blue fingers over the bark of a nearby willow, graceful and imposing, its branches drooping down to meet the serene river.

His stomach grumbled and his thoughts turned to dreams of future meals. The rich center of their lands contained the public meeting areas, food storage and silage for the horses, the medical areas, the market zone. A few generations ago, elves had begun to spread further out from the center of the community and settle in the outlying wooded areas. This was what had prompted Cornel, back when he was newly made the leader of the Northern clan, to reinforce the old walls and begin setting the patrols. Before Cornel, the walls had been waist-high, built mainly to keep sheep and young children from running off. Now they were twice the height of a full-grown elf.

But right now, Artos was far from the center of the clan lands. He and nineteen others were based in a small camp in the southeast, about midway between East Gate and South Gate; meals were bleak out here. They took it in turn to monitor both atop and outside the wall; tonight, Artos had drawn river patrol, and he stood alone on the bank. He dwelt briefly on the distant memory of fresh bread, spread liberally with salted butter, and felt his stomach rumble again. Ah, well, he would be back in the central zone in a month or so, and could eat all the fresh bread a warrior might want.

Sighing, he shoved his disheveled blond locks out of his eyes and gazed across the swift, clear river. Somewhere on its other side were the lands of the dreaded Day clan, dark elves who had been feuding with his Night clan for longer than Artos himself had been alive. He had never actually seen a Day elf, but the stories the elders told – of swarthy, green-skinned monsters with pointy teeth and clumsy feet – were enough to give anyone pause. Old women in the Night clan hissed tales of stolen babies, though Artos was inclined to discount this. He'd never heard of a single baby going missing from his clan. Older men spoke warningly of the Southern clan's ferocity in daytime.

Artos, like the rest of his Northern clan, had almost painfully acute vision in the dark. Even without moonlight a Night elf could spot a pebble on the path in the middle of the dark woods from twenty paces away. But put them in the sunlight and they were crippled, blinded by the harsh rays, for which their pale eyes were unsuited. Of course the warriors trained themselves to see in the sunlight. Some were more successful than others. Lukas, for example, could barely open his weak eyes against the brightness; he was now permanently assigned to night duty. Fighters like Artos, Mathias, and Ludovicus could handle night duty or day, though Artos always preferred the reassuring dark.

Day elves were just the opposite, apparently, unable to see much of anything at night. They had developed darker hair and eyes, like shields to protect them from the sun's rays. Skin once pale blue, like the Nights', had allegedly evolved over time to a deep green color, stained by the sun. Artos often wondered whether this could actually be true, and whether they in turn ever trained themselves to move stealthily in the dark, camouflaged by the shadows in the expansive landscape. If he were a Day elf, he would do this. It was strategically sensible. Yet he had never seen any evidence of this. Perhaps they were simply too stealthy.

He sometimes wondered whether Day elves even existed, though he could not think of a reason why the king would continue the patrols, the fearful lectures, if there were no such enemies. The Night clan's borders had expanded quite a bit in the few years since Artos had attained adulthood. Parts of the kingdom were so far afield, as here, that guards remained in camp for a month or longer before rotating to a new duty. He supposed it was a wise move to keep the borders under nightly patrol, but couldn't help wondering whether his king should be less oblique in his orders. Fostering horror stories about the (probably) mythical Day elves seemed like a childish fabrication, unworthy of a king.

Here on the straight, quiet riverbank, alone, standing with his back to the coming sunrise, Artos took a deep peaceful breath before preparing for the jog back to the gate and then the barracks. Someone would be coming to relieve him soon. In his left hand he held his yew longbow, whose curve rested on the ground. A few ducks swam placidly downstream; he wondered whether ducks had feuds and wars, and decided they probably didn't. Artos scratched his pointed ear as he scanned the horizon one final time.

As he turned towards the gate he caught a movement in the trees across the river. Could it be a dark elf? Or just an animal? He froze and stared at the space. Surely an animal would continue its progress through the forest. But there was no more movement.

Artos was almost irrationally excited now. This might be his chance! To slay – or perhaps capture, yes, to capture an actual Day elf, a Southerner, and drag him back to the central zone's meeting hall, where all could see his hunting prowess. Elfred would be impressed, that he knew. That boy thought only of winning accolades in battle. Well, that and his next meal. Artos let out a delicate little snort.

He eased the longbow in front of him but realized that he might not be able to see well enough to make the shot, from this distance, with his quarry hidden in the woods. The sun was lightening the sky, and it would disturb his focus. He'd have to get closer.

The movement was on the fringe of the woods. There was a rickety footbridge over the river that no one ever dared use, but it was at least a furlong away. If he tried to cross the bridge, he might lose sight of the prey. Without regard for his light deerskin boots or his elegant cloak, Artos waded thigh-deep into the river and crossed, holding his bow above his head to keep the wood dry.

He was pleased with the silence of his progress. On the far bank he stepped up lightly, hiding behind a tree, and peered into the woods. Yes. Someone was definitely standing there. Since it was dark under the trees, he could easily make out the slight figure there, in a dark cloak, watching him carefully.

Watching him? How could a dark elf in the shadow of the woods see him? Unless everything he knew about the Day clan was a lie.

Then Artos realized he was backlit by the faint rays of the rising sun, and that a Day elf would most likely be able to see him quite clearly.

Unless everything he knew about the Day clan was a lie, that is.

The cloaked figure spoke. "You could have used the bridge, little one."

The amused, deep voice, with a slight unfamiliar lilt, sent a shiver down Artos' spine. It _must _be a dark elf! No one in his clan sounded like that. He held his bow horizontally before him in both strong hands, like a barrier, and stalked forward.

But the dark elf had not threatened Artos yet. Was he in danger? He was now intensely interested to see if the descriptions of dark elves were accurate. He didn't speak, nor did the other, until Artos had reached the protective safety of the trees, still holding his bow in front of him.

"Why did you cross the river?" The stranger's hood was over his head, deep enough that Artos could see only the spark of eyes, a glimpse of pale skin at lips and throat. The full lips were slightly curved, as in mockery, and the dark elf's hands were clasped loosely before him, a short sword belted at his side.

"I came to capture you," Artos stated boldly. Perhaps more boldly than he actually felt. He shifted the bow to his left hand and rested the curve on the ground. Of course there was now no room to aim and shoot an arrow.

"Did you, truly?" the stranger asked quietly. He pushed back his hood and his gaze met Artos' in the growing light.

The blond elf saw amber eyes glowing like the wheat fields at sunset. Long brown hair, perfectly groomed and tied back but for an unruly lone curl sprouting from one side. So. Not drooling monsters, after all. The dark elf's skin was indeed green, but smooth and pearly, and one dark eyebrow was raised as he in his turn contemplated Artos.

Artos narrowed his green eyes slightly, trying to intimidate. He was young, but already regarded as a strong fighter. This knowledge helped him maintain his composure now. He could fight and shoot quite well. If this Southerner thought he was going to take Artos captive – He stood up straighter and tried to assume a haughty expression.

"Not as frightening as they say," the Day murmured. Mesmerized by the honeyed voice, Artos waited to see what the dark elf would do next. The Southerner stepped even closer to the blond, reaching out a warm hand to caress his cheek.

Before Artos knew what was happening, he felt a soft kiss pressed to his lips. His eyes closed as he returned the pressure – his first-ever kiss, and it was _perfect, _warm and inviting – and then he startled back from the other, raising a hand to his mouth. He had _kissed a dark elf?_ Dear gods, this would be grounds for execution, if his king ever learned of it. He felt faint.

"The sun is up," the dark elf whispered to the startled warrior. "Run along home, sweet Night." He gave Artos a gentle push and melted back into the woods.

The sun was indeed up. Artos lost sight of him, and, unable to process any other thoughts, crossed the bridge and ran along home, not even waiting for his replacement to arrive.

…

He did not stop to put his longbow away. Still wearing his squelchy boots, he came into the barracks as fast as he could, panting a little, and headed for the main room's heavy side table, where dinner for the returning warriors was traditionally set out. He paid little attention to the slop they called stew, which was the only thing left at this hour. Artos dumped some into a glazed clay bowl, grabbing a hunk of stale bread to accompany it. He sat alone to eat, laying his bow on the oaken table, his mind a whirl. No one else was here. They'd probably eaten and gone to sleep already.

As he gulped some clear spring water, cool and refreshing, he felt himself beginning to settle, felt his thoughts slow to a manageable state. Resolutely he pushed the memory of the kiss out of his mind and otherwise replayed the rest of his encounter with the Southerner from start to finish. Why hadn't the elf harmed him?

But then, Artos had failed to harm the Day as well. Why?

He finished his stew and dunked the bowl in the barrel of water that stood in the corner, placing the cleaned bowl and spoon on the shelf for the local women to wash more thoroughly. Picking up his bow, Artos headed to his narrow bunk, and sleep.

But sleep eluded him. His thoughts circled from the kiss to the memory of the Day's warm eyes to the sound of his rich deep voice and back again. Why had that Southerner kissed him? Why hadn't Artos taken him prisoner?

Oh, if only he had it to do all over again, he would do it so differently. He would do it right. Why had he failed to do it right the first time? Head a muddle, Artos punched his flat pillow, trying to force himself to relax and sleep.

Several hours later, he finally did sleep, worn out from the constant thinking, unable to focus on anything else.

It was not until much later that he realized he had completely forgotten about Elfred.

…

_"The Flower of Battle" ("Fior di Battaglia") is the name of a 15__th__-century manual on martial arts by the Italian master Fiore dei Liberi._

_"Ludovicus" is the Latin name from which "Ludwig" is derived._

_I chose "Cornel" for Germania through a rather roundabout process: In Colleen McCullough's wonderful "Masters of Rome" series, Lucius Cornelius Sulla travels from Rome to Germania masquerading as a Gaul, as a spy, and fathers twins on a German princess. He names them Cornel (for the gens Cornelia) and Herman (for "German"), and then returns to his senatorial life in Rome. "Cornel" seemed, therefore, like a plausible name for Germania in this story. I don't believe the Sulla story has any basis in fact._


	2. The Truth, Revealed

**The Truth, Revealed.**

Artos was so conflicted about that meeting that he wasn't quite sure what to do. He could definitely not confess to anyone that he had had a dark elf within arm's reach (here he blushed: _much closer than that_) and failed to kill him, or even take him prisoner. He simply could not admit that to anyone. His king trusted him. If Cornel ever learned how Artos had backed down –

He had also felt unable to request a specific posting for his guard duty. He wasn't even sure what he wanted to ask for: to avoid the river patrol? Or to go back and encounter the haunting Day again? Every time he had this thought progression, his brain went into a panic. However, it was likely the dark elf would not return to that spot. If the Days had patrols, he too was bound to be shuffled from posting to posting.

Artos had therefore uncomplainingly taken whatever duty he was assigned – sometimes guarding, sometimes hunting, hauling water, assisting in repairs, whatever the clan needed. Three weeks had passed since that disastrous encounter. He had not been assigned to the river patrol since then.

Yet the memory continued to trouble him, vividly. Artos, previously willing to eat almost anything, had lost much of his appetite and therefore much weight. He had not been able to sleep as well as before. Almost constantly distracted, he spent his waking hours trying to repress that memory and get on with things, yet he kept catching himself running his fingers over his lips, remembering that kiss. The last thing he needed was for someone to see this and start asking awkward questions. Artos knew he would not be able to dissemble; he was not that skilled, not that subtle.

Making him feel worse was the fact that Elfred was apparently unaware of his – his – his illness, Artos supposed he ought to call it. Because it _was_ like an illness, like a fever in his brain and heart, burning him up, driving him onward. No, his foster brother treated him just the same as always, a careless word here, a slap on the shoulder there. Somewhat melodramatically, Artos wondered just how near death he'd need to be before Elfred noticed.

Now heading home from the nighttime hunt, he sighed. His group had bagged an antelope, which would become more stew, its skin used for new boots for those who needed them most. He'd shot the arrow that had brought the animal down, and his companions had praised him for it. Artos accepted their compliments gracefully, remembering a time when this would have pleased him. How little it seemed to matter, now.

As always, as it neared sunrise, his thoughts returned to that striking Day elf. He wondered whether he had had an ulterior motive. Perhaps this was some Southern subterfuge, sneaking up on unsuspecting Nights and kissing them, so that they slowly lost their minds? Artos felt it was only a matter of time before he lost his mind completely. He went to his bunk and stowed his bow and quiver underneath it. In his plain grey tunic and banded leggings, he then decided to head to the main hall, to see if anyone else was around. Perhaps the company of others would help him forget his obsession for a little while. Maybe Tino, whose friendly conversation always cheered him.

Burly Ludovicus was there, with Mathias, the tallest elf in the clan, whose spiky hair made him look even taller. Those two, both trained in swordfighting rather than the bow (as was Elfred), made an imposing pair. Normally the slight Artos felt insecure next to these best friends. That concern was now so trivial compared to the deeper turmoil in his soul that it didn't even register tonight.

Others swarmed around, socializing, winding down at the end of their shifts. "Artos! Join us for some mead," Mathias laughed, waving his tankard. Ludovicus nodded and poured some mead into a clean tankard for him.

"Yes," Artos agreed; why not? Maybe that would help, too, although he'd have to be quite careful with what he'd say, how much he'd drink. He first crossed to check the duty roster.

His heart began hammering against his rib cage. Tomorrow night – tomorrow night he was scheduled for river patrol. He felt the blood mounting to his face and was grateful the other two were seated behind him. Artos forced deep, calming breaths, until he felt in control of himself. He joined the other two at the scarred old table just as Elfred and another guard, the flirtatious François, entered the hall and sat.

"Is there enough mead?" Elfred laughed, grabbing the new tankard out from under Artos' nose and swallowing half of it in one gulp. "Ah," he belched. "Just what I needed." François swiped the tankard and finished it with a grin, handing it back to Artos, who poured himself some more and began to sip with a weak smile.

"Good to see you two," Mathias told them. "How are things with you?"

Artos listened with half an ear, now ignoring his drink, while Elfred detailed his dramatic and frustrating woes, such as not being able to get enough to eat, losing his lucky knife, and having to help his mother with the washing. The green-eyed elf snorted.

Then he wondered whether the dark elf ever had to help his mother with the washing. Hah.

"You are looking a bit tired," François pointed out. "Have you been sick?"

"I – ah – ahem, no, I am not sick," Artos lied. "It is simply difficult to sleep sometimes." Once again he felt a dark flush rising, but Elfred unintentionally diverted everyone by belching again.

"So true. It is so warm during the day. I want to sleep outside, under the trees, but my mother will not let me."

Here the other guards – even Artos – gave Elfred some good-natured ribbing. He laughed and polished off another tankard.

The guards continued to banter and drink for quite a while; more elves entered, some departed. After two tankards of mead, Artos slipped quietly away, unnoticed. Perhaps the mead would help him sleep. He would need a good night's rest before going on the river patrol tomorrow. He shivered (in fear? in anticipation?) as he prepared for bed.

…

All the way to his appointed spot, the blond jittered with nerves, fingers drumming against the wood of his bow. He still was not certain whether or not he wanted to encounter that mocking dark elf again. But he knew – though he couldn't say why – that it was no longer an option to try to take the Day prisoner, or kill him.

Perhaps the Southerner would try to kill _him, _this time_._

That would solve all his problems. He was going to die soon anyway, he knew. His weakened body could not keep up with the neglect and the constant attacks of nerves.

Artos arrived at the riverbank just before sunset and his eyes automatically turned to the spot under the trees. There was a movement! Heart thumping, he stood stock-still for several minutes, trying to slow the pounding of the blood in his veins, trying to plan what he would say to the Southerner. If it was in fact that same elf, and not some other Day sent to patrol this area, or a wild animal.

There was only one way to find out. Artos walked to the dilapidated footbridge and crossed it carefully, continuing to glance at the woods as he proceeded.

By the time he stepped under the arching green trees, night had fallen completely, and he was able to easily make out the figure before him. His elf. (_His_ elf? Artos began to panic again. Why had he thought such a thing?) Dressed in the same dark cloak as previously, smiling that same mocking smile.

The Day hadn't spoken or made a move. Artos decided to take the initiative. "Why are you still outside at night…_little one?_" he tried to sneer.

Gliding closer to him, the dark elf's smile softened. "I don't believe you can call me 'little one,'" he countered in his wry tone. "I believe I'm taller than you are."

Swallowing his nervousness, Artos forced a grin into his voice. "Come closer and let us find out." Would the Day do it? He held his breath.

But the Southerner had apparently decided there was no risk; if risk there was, Artos himself no longer cared. Anything would be preferable to his suffering the last few weeks, even ignoble death in the forest.

The dark elf walked right up in front of him, until they were nearly touching. Artos was glad of the concealing darkness, because he knew the other would not be able to see the fierce deep blush on his cheeks, or the panic in his eyes.

The two elves stared at each other, the Day's sardonic grin gone. Artos felt himself calming as he gazed at the peaceful colors of amber, green, brown. Soothing colors of the dark forest, colors that had been visible to him all his life, but that he had only recently begun to see. His breathing slowed; his eyes relaxed.

His companion reached out a hand and brushed a thumb across the delicate skin under Artos' eye. "You look so weary," he said, in a puzzled, caring tone that broke down all of Artos' reserve. He was so conflicted that he did not even wonder how the Day could make out that detail in the dark.

The blond elf hung his head. "I – have been unable to focus on my tasks, on eating or sleeping, since we – you –" he faltered. "I hunt, I guard, I must be eating and sleeping, but my days and nights pass in a distant haze. I am obsessed with you, the enemy of my clan, and it is tearing me apart." He felt a single tear fall and kept his head downturned, so the Southerner would not glimpse this weakness.

After a beat the lilting voice spoke. "I have always loved the sun." Artos wondered what the other elf meant by this. The Day continued, "Each morning our clan has a ritual to welcome the life-giving sun, its warm bright rays that illuminate the grass underfoot, the glisten of the dew, the bright shocks of wildflowers everywhere. I love the sun." He paused. "And yet, now…when I look at the sun…I see only your golden hair, encircling your face like a cloud…the blue sky's color mimics that of your perfect skin…now the dew on the sweet green grass brings only memories of your sparkling eyes." He paused again, and when he finally spoke the aching was evident in his tone. "I will always love the sun."

Artos felt another tear fall. Silence stretched between them. "Have you ever kissed another?" he finally dared ask. He did not raise his gaze.

Now the deep voice was merry and sweet. "Yes, little one, I have. Haven't you?" The dark elf put a finger under Artos' chin and lifted his head until their eyes met. They were indeed almost the same height, probably the same age as well, Artos guessed.

He swallowed nervously and shook his head. "No. In our clan, there is a legend that if – if two elves share their first kiss, they are bound to each other for life." He took a deep breath. "I am glad that did not happen between you and me."

The dark elf's face grew sad. "You would not wish to be bound to me, shining one?" He took his finger away from Artos' chin, but their eyes remained locked.

"I would not." He swallowed again, and throwing caution to the wind, Artos clarified, "Not if it happened by magic, or a legend. I – would want us to choose that." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I want our heads, our hearts, to choose each other." Yes. Now he recognized this truth. He had probably felt this way all along, and not understood, until now.

"I have already made my choice," the Southerner murmured earnestly. "My heart chose for me, when I saw you climb up the riverbank, glowing in the subtle sunrise, before ever we spoke." He took Artos' unresisting hand and placed it on his dark cloak, over his heart. "I place my heart in your hand, shining Night elf, and trust that you will protect and care for it as long as I live."

Tears rising, Artos mirrored his actions and replied, "I accept the gift of your heart, my dark one, and offer my own to you, trusting in you."

Their lips met to seal their life's oath. This time the dark elf broke away first and rested his forehead against Artos'. "This may mean death for me, but I no longer care."

"For me as well. But I count it worth the risk." Relief coursed through Artos' veins. He now knew he would not die, but live, and love, growing stronger again. "Will you court punishment, staying out in the night?" Wonderingly, his fingers traced the planes of the dark elf's face.

"No." He raised his head and leaned against Artos. "I have convinced my father to allow me to train as a night scout, in case of Northern treachery." The Day let out a weak, relieved laugh. "Truthfully? Just a ruse, so that I could find you again."

"Your father?"

"My father is the king. I am his eldest son."

"Roma?" Artos was aghast and drew back. Of all the rumored dark elves in the world, the name of Roma was the only one he knew. A fierce, hardened warrior, his name featured prominently in the horror stories told around the clanstead's fires.

"Yes. But do not fear." The dark one stood up straight, pulling Artos deeper into the shadow of the trees; his voice dropped lower as he pulled the Night elf closer. "Dear one, have you ever considered how ridiculous this feud has been?" He slid his fingers gently into the blond hair.

"Every day," Artos murmured, relaxing again, his lips against the warm green skin. "More, since I met you. You are the first Southerner I ever saw. Maybe some of the elders have seen Southerners before; I can't say. But they speak of your clan as monsters, baby-stealing monsters with bizarre and frightful rituals. Surely that can't be true."

"Not true at all. We speak of Night elves as alluring shadows that slink into homes in the night and do murder, stealing the life's breath away with a kiss." They drew closer together under the tree.

"I have always wondered how the feud even began," Artos told him.

"I wonder if there's a way to stop it. I don't wish us to be at risk, trying to see each other."

For a few moments they stayed close, discussing possible ways to cease the hostilities, but concluded that only Roma and the Night clan leader could effect such a change. "Are you close to your king?" the Day asked.

"Cornel? No one is close to him. He is stern and cold, and rules us all very diligently. Though I may thank him, someday, for posting me to the river patrol that night." He pulled his new love closer with a sweet smile.

"I will thank him as well, someday," the Day murmured, as they sank to the ground together.

A little while later Artos asked, "Do you need to depart?" He did not want any trouble over this. His heart was finally at peace, and he knew the two of them would soon find a way to be together. Somehow.

"Yes. I do need to scout, so that I have something to report." He kissed Artos again and stood up. "Be strong for me, my love," he whispered.

The blond rose as well. "There is one thing I would like to ask before you go. A very important question."

The dark elf looked confused. "What – what –?"

"Would it not be better if we knew each other's name?" Artos smiled sweetly at his new friend.

"Of course," the other laughed, relief evident in his deep voice. "My name is Lovino."

"Lovino," Artos repeated, tasting the sweet syllables. "And I am Artos."

"Am I likely to see you soon, my Artos?" Lovino caressed his face.

"We are not permitted to request specific postings," the blond admitted. "It is possible that I may not draw this posting again. At the end of this month I return to our central zone for two weeks and then will be posted elsewhere."

"Then rest assured, I will look for you elsewhere."

"Please do not risk yourself if I am with anyone else. I do not wish to lose you to an overeager Night wishing to make a capture or kill."

Lovino kissed him one final time; Artos savored it, inhaling his love's fresh sunny scent. "Only you will know I am near. Until we meet again, _little one_," Lovino grinned.

"Until then," Artos slipped out of the woods and crossed the river bridge, his heart aglow.

…

_Roma, you probably guessed, is Grandpa Rome. _


	3. Separation and Desire

**Separation and Desire.**

The blond had begun to recover from the debilitating near-illness he had suffered before he and Lovino had pledged their hearts to each other. Every afternoon, when he awakened and headed through artificially-darkened rooms to start his day, he thought of his dark elf. His heart filled with joy and the strength to get through his tasks, onerous as they now seemed. He would much rather be roaming the wide world with Lovino, learning more about him, deepening their love for one another.

He glanced sadly at Elfred today, thankful that he had never proceeded with his interest in the juvenile blond. He did not want his foster brother to hurt, especially if it were caused by Artos. But Elfred was just the same as always, carefree and energetic, wolfing down his food.

After a two-week break in the central zone, the two of them had drawn south patrols. These were close enough that guards lived in Central Barracks and traveled to their posting each night. They'd both drawn South Gate duty tonight. Being closest to those dark devils (here Artos grinned to himself), South Gate always required a double guard set on it. They, along with guards deputed to other areas, now ate a healthy meal in the main meeting hall, silence broken only by the sound of pewter cutlery on clay plates, slurping, or a request for condiments.

The blond had not spoken to Lovino since the night they had vowed themselves to one another, but he knew the dark elf had found him, had been watching him. He could sense the Day's presence like a caress on his skin as he patrolled the various areas around the Northern lands. Lovino had been watching, hidden, and sending his heart silent messages of love. Artos felt truly awake, for the first time in his life. All because of an enemy of his clan.

…

"I am going to take a nap," Elfred announced cavalierly, standing before the iron bars of the double gate.

"What?" Artos was taken aback. "You cannot do that! You are on guard duty!"

"You are so predictably uptight, Artos. When was the last time you drew this duty? _Everybody_ naps on South Gate. Nobody has ever seen a dark elf; there is no chance we are going to get attacked. They probably do not even exist. Cornel is deluding himself. When Ludovicus becomes king, all this nonsense will stop." Elfred lay down in the lee of the gate, closing his eyes. "Just wake me before sunrise."

Artos could only stand before his foster brother with his jaw agape. Well, everybody knew Ludovicus was going to be king after Cornel. He did take a hearty interest in the way the clan was run. But he'd stop the patrols? Did _everyone_ in his clan feel as though the patrols were nonsense? Artos did, certainly. He wanted to ask some questions, but not of Elfred. Artos didn't want Cornel to find out he'd been gossiping this way, and Elfred's love of gossip was notorious. If Artos asked questions, Elfred would babble this to the first person he met. Eventually Cornel would learn of it.

The blond spent a few moments deep in thought. Perhaps Elfred's view could be exploited to sway the rest of the clan, to end the painful feud. His face softened, gazing at the sleeping Elfred, but thinking only of Lovino. If he could talk to him, maybe they could come up with some kind of plan together.

Almost immediately, Artos felt that familiar shiver on his skin and knew his lover was near. His vision focused first on the now-snoring Elfred, and then he turned his eyes out past the bars of South Gate, into the thickly-leaved trees that ringed the compound. Yes, Lovino stood there, partially concealed by a tree, and even at this distance, Artos' excellent night vision picked out the tender smile on the dark elf's face.

He glanced at Elfred again – who already appeared to be so deeply asleep that even a horn blast in his ear wouldn't wake him – and, satisfied, slipped through the small door next to the gate, hurrying to the tree where Lovino waited.

"Sweet one," the Day murmured, pulling him close and kissing him deeply. "How I have longed for you."

Artos savored the slightly salty taste of his lover's lips. "Here I am, little one." He grinned. What a delightful surprise. It made boring South Gate duty well worth it.

"But how much longer can we go on like this? I thought I could be strong, but I spend all my time dreaming of ways to be with you again." They held each other close in desperation, not knowing when they might have another chance to be together.

In a few brief sentences Artos told him of Elfred's disinterest in the feud and his disbelief in Days in general. "There might be a way to use this, to end the hostilities."

"Yes. I – I haven't dared sound out my people; I don't want anyone getting suspicious of me – of us."

"Think on it, when we separate," Artos begged him. "But for right now –"

"Yes," Lovino said simply, as the two of them slipped deeper into the forest.

…

"I shouldn't keep you any longer," Lovino said earnestly, when they had come back towards South Gate. "If he awakens and finds you out here, you won't be able to explain it away."

"I know." Artos crushed him closer for a feverish goodbye kiss. His hands slid into Lovino's hair; he saw an earring twinkling. He fingered it gently, visually checking the other ear. "In our clan it is the fashion to wear an earring in each ear."

"Ours as well. But the craftsman only had one perfect stone that matched your eyes." Lovino leaned against him.

Artos was surprised beyond measure. "Perhaps you will set a new fashion" was all he could think of to say, as the dark elf reached up to fondle his earlobe.

"You should wear one as well. Or two, as it pleases you. Yours could match my eyes," Lovino grinned. "A second secret pledge known only to us."

The blond sighed. "I am well known for not desiring frippery. Others wear them, or gaudy brooches on cloaks, but I have always eschewed it. Should I suddenly begin wearing an earring or two, it might invite awkward questions." He considered this. "Then too, we do not have many craftsmen who do such fine work."

"No matter. I know you are thinking of me, earring or no."

"Constantly." He kissed Lovino again; the dark elf slid sideways to nibble on Artos' earlobe, and he swayed forward into the warm embrace before feeling a pinch of pain. "What?"

"Forgive my excess of zeal. You are so delicious – " Lovino interrupted himself to begin licking and sucking on Artos' ear.

"Please stop; I must go. Enticing as that actually is," the blond grinned.

"But you are bleeding a bit; I must clean it."

"You dark elves are so ferocious," Artos laughed weakly, still feeling the warm tongue against his ear, arousing him again.

"Have every reason to be, with a tasty morsel like you nearby." Lovino stood back. "There. Your ear is clean again. Now back to your post; be safe."

"Be strong, and think on things. We will find a way."

"Stay well." Lovino melted into the shadows; Artos returned to his post.

…

Thankfully, Elfred was still asleep when Artos returned, but the blue-eyed elf awakened within minutes. "Artos! What happened?"

"Wh-what do you mean?" He checked his cloak; it was free of leaves. Lovino had brushed them off before they'd parted.

"You're _bleeding!_" Elfred reached out a hand to his foster brother's ear and drew it back with a bit of blood on it. "Were you away from your post?"

Artos panicked and tried bluffing. "I – I saw a movement in the woods and went to investigate," he said, completely truthfully. "Perhaps something bit me." He felt a blush rising and turned to peer back into the woods, partially to make sure Lovino was out of sight, and partially to conceal his nervousness. He reached his sleeve up to press against the ear and staunch the blood.

"Did you see anything? You should have awakened me. I would have helped."

Artos failed to repress the snort that this comment drew forth, but luckily Elfred did not seem to hear. "Nothing to concern you. And the injury is not a problem. It should heal by morning."

"If you say so."

In order to divert his foster brother, Artos then spoke of inconsequential things; meals, Ludovicus' training to be king, the likelihood of drawing South Gate again for their next duty. This tactic worked, and Elfred did not return to the subject of Artos' injured earlobe that night.

En route back to the barracks, Artos, walking behind Elfred, reached a hand up to touch the healing wound Lovino's teeth had left, and smiled.


	4. The White Horde

**The White Horde.**

Just after midnight there was a commotion in the barracks. Artos, who had been mending his second-best green cloak, which had gotten torn recently, listened to the excited babble and understood that some scouts had returned from the North with frightening news. Everyone, Artos included, hastened to the meeting hall, where Cornel sat on his austere throne with the two scouts kneeling before him. A clan mother knelt by one of them – Artos did not know his name – who was crying and babbling nonsense. She tried to soothe the young elf, but he continued keening and rocking in her embrace. The hall was packed, and more elves arrived by the minute.

The other scout, Edvard, stood upright and stammered his news. It took a long time, but he did manage to complete his panicked delivery. Everyone in the hall stood hushed, listening to his weak account of a horde of white devils on their way from the northeast, vicious beings heading this way with an army, striking down all they passed. Women and children began wailing in fear until Cornel put a stop to it.

"Warriors, remain," he said sternly, "and all women and children – out." He nodded to the woman holding the scout. "Take him with you. Ensure he is cared for. Do his parents know he has returned?"

"Sir, a runner was sent to them when he arrived," Ludovicus said. Trust Ludovicus to do the right thing.

"Very well."

The woman and some of her friends helped the sniffling scout out of the room; Edvard was directed to sit and repeat his story. François poured him some clear spring water to soothe his throat.

"More I cannot tell you," the scout offered apologetically, coughing. "We were taken by surprise and only managed to escape because I threw Raivis over my horse's saddle and fled. The white devils are on a rampage, sir." He sent a pleading glance towards the clan leader. "We should prepare for their arrival, prepare for war."

"Do not call them devils," Cornel admonished him. "That is the kind of talk that will sow fear amongst the people."

More warriors had begun to trickle into the expansive meeting hall as this discussion took place. Now, Artos noted, possibly a thousand fighters were here, most bristling with the desire for real battle. He could not blame them: all their lives, the elves of his clan had been trained for fighting, and other than difficult prey while hunting, or sparring in training, never had a chance to use that training. Elfred, he could see, was practically bursting with the desire to fight the horde of white devils.

Devils. Artos snorted, thinking of the way his clan applied that term to almost everything they didn't understand. Like Lovino's clan.

Realization struck him: if the white horde came from the north and attacked, they might wipe out the entire Night clan. If their armies were so great.

And if they destroyed the Night clan, the Days would have no defenses left at all.

He had to tell Lovino of this news, and he had to do it soon, to give his friend's clan time to arm for battle. No one would miss Artos tonight. If Edvard's news were accurate, he had very little time indeed.

Artos slipped out the back of the hall unremarked. He ran to his barracks and grabbed his mended cloak, covering himself, and escaped through the now-undefended South Gate. Undefended because the guards were all in the meeting hall. They would never win a war against anyone, white horde or otherwise, if the guards were so slipshod they couldn't stay at their posts!

For now, he ran into the night, hoping against all odds that he could find Lovino and warn him.

...

"Beloved! I didn't sense your approach." The dark elf melted into his arms in the protective shadow of an arching willow tree.

They kissed briefly before Artos stepped back and delivered his news. "You must prepare. If we fall –"

"This is very bad," Lovino agreed. "If only we weren't at odds with your clan, we could stand together, perhaps defeat these invaders." He ran a hand through Artos' hair slowly. "For if you lose your life, there is no reason for me to go on."

"Hush," Artos said to him, holding him close. "I have much to live for. I do not want to die, but I will not abandon my clan."

"No. Nor will I." They shared an understanding glance.

"If we could convince the clan leaders…" Artos began, but was unable to develop a plan for approaching the fearsome Roma.

But – "That's it," Lovino said, kissing him warmly. "That's exactly it. Tell me what you think of this plan." He detailed a daring plan in a few quiet whispers.

Artos felt a chill in the pit of his stomach. It was indeed a daring plan, and required him to place himself in an uncharacteristically submissive position. But time was of the essence, and this was the only plan they had. "I will do it," he agreed. "Bind me loosely, though, just in case – in case –" But he could not insult Lovino's father that way. He stopped himself.

"In case my father is dishonorable?" the Day asked tersely, as if he too considered it a possibility. "I will indeed bind you loosely, and if they're going to kill you, they'll have to kill me as well."

Artos held his hands out in front of him. "Work swiftly. We haven't much time."

Lovino, nodding, did what he needed to do.


	5. Subterfuge

**Subterfuge.**

Artos was quite grateful for the darkness, grateful in a way he had never felt before. As Lovino led him, bound, through the enemy's city (he persisted in thinking of them as the enemy, even though he knew they really were not), the few present elves stared at him in silent disbelief. He supposed they had never seen a Night before. The city was quite a way from the Northern development; it had taken the two young lovers more than an hour to run silently back in the dark. Artos had slipped out of the weak wrist bindings, and they'd stopped to reaffix them before entering the Southern city.

Those Days who spent little time appraising him turned admiring glances on his companion. One, dark, with smiling green eyes, slipped up to Lovino's side and began to speak to him.

"Not now. This is too important."

"But Lovi~!"

"Not now!" Angrily, Lovino jerked on Artos' arm to get past the intrusive Day. That elf stood back and let the two of them pass without further comment.

Artos' eyes took in the more advanced development of the Day elf lands. Their homes were solid stone or brick structures, aesthetically pleasing, with useless but beautiful ornamentation here and there. Trees and plants were artistically placed to draw the eye, in pots, or in cultivated beds by the wide roadside. The Days that he did see were clad in bright woven silks, jewelry and delicate footgear, not the plain gear that most of the Nights favored. He wished he had time – and leisure – to explore Lovino's city more thoroughly. Perhaps one day. It seemed as though there might be a lot to learn from their ancient enemy.

Lovino led him to a small brick building on a slight hill. Artos noted that from this vantage point, someone could see the entire Day compound spread before him. Strategically very impressive. This must be Roma's meeting hall.

But inside he saw it was a private dwelling, much more richly appointed than any of the buildings in Artos' camp. Woven rugs in bright colors lay on the floor and hung on the walls; ornate metal braziers stood here and there, giving off the faint scent of incense. Long diaphanous curtains fluttered in the soft Southern breezes, and a tiny, perfect blue jewel of a bird sang in a gilded cage. Artos was charmed.

No. Artos was terrified.

A tall, dark elf – he could immediately see the familial resemblance – stepped out from behind a screen. His hair, worn shorter than Lovino's, sprouted unruly curls. The elder's dark eyes widened as he saw the blond, noted the hands bound with long stalks of river grass. "Lovino?" he asked. "You have captured a Night?" Eyebrows raised, he was faintly smiling in a way that did not seem entirely threatening. Did Artos dare relax?

"Sir," Lovino told him, bowing, "this Night is no prisoner, but a – a dear friend of mine. He has news of an invasion from the north, and hastened to warn me. We knew that our clan would disbelieve this information if they should find out it came from a Night, and so in the guise of a prisoner my Artos has agreed to be brought to you, to tell his news."

Roma sat on a stool. "Please unbind him," he said carelessly. Lovino tore off the ineffectual bindings he had made; the subterfuge made his father smile. "And introduce him properly, my son."

Lovino blushed and introduced Artos to his redoubtable father. Artos bowed. "I have been honored to make your son's acquaintance," he offered, although truthfully, it had gone far beyond acquaintanceship that very first night.

"I knew you had found a special friend," the clan leader told his son. "You have been calmer and more cooperative lately. I have noted it." He turned his dark gaze to Artos again. "But I did not understand that you had fallen in love with a Night."

Both Artos and Lovino flushed, and Roma chuckled, surprising the blond. "Tell me your news, fair one."

Artos bowed and explained the news that Edvard had brought. "I cannot verify his statements, although I am inclined to believe them; scouts of our clan do not panic, and both he and Raivis were devastated when they arrived."

"I had heard of these 'white devils' long ago, as a child," Roma mused, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "Elves fled them, coming into our camp for sanctuary. But no horde ever arrived. Perhaps the same thing will happen this time."

"Respectfully I submit that it is always best to be prepared, sir." Artos bowed again. Lovino was looking distinctly nervous, but Artos knew it had to be said. "Cornel is preparing for war."

The clan leader's expression softened. "My beloved Cornel," he murmured with a soft smile, which almost made Artos shout aloud. "Does he know of your surprising friendship?"

"I – I have not spoken to him of it; I rarely speak to him directly, except to sometimes offer suggestions during council meetings. But Lovino and I have taken great care not to be observed by anyone else."

"I am exceedingly pleased with you," the clan leader told his son, causing the young dark elf to blush and bow wordlessly. "If this white horde is the threat your Night so seriously believes it is, then you have done remarkably well." He rubbed his jaw again. "Now all that remains is to convince Cornel."

"We had planned to try this ruse on him as well," Artos admitted. "Binding Lovino and treating him as a prisoner until we could be alone with my king."

"Not a bad strategy," Roma told him. "But I can think of a way to improve it."

The two young elves both bowed again, deferentially.

"Take me as well," the elder stated, rising from his chair.

"Sir?" Lovino blurted out.

"Do not fear for me, my son. Cornel will not harm me. Certainly with the threat of the white horde on his heels, he will not want to waste time pursuing an old – an old –" Roma interrupted himself, shrugging, and held his hand out to Artos, who clasped it in the elven gesture of friendship.

"Bind me again," Artos told Lovino. "We need to get out of your camp quickly, and then I'll bind the two of you as we approach mine."

"I welcome you to our clan," Roma told him with a grin.

"I thank you," Artos returned, formally, as Lovino bound his wrists.

…

Preceded by screaming children, flustered women and the harsh glances of resting warriors, Artos led his bound Southern charges through the camp to Cornel's throne room. It was just before sunrise. Artos hoped his king was still conferring about the white horde.

In the throne room Cornel was pacing, surrounded by Ludovicus and many of the other elves. The clan leader glanced up, his eyes met Roma's, and he froze.

"Everybody out," he barked to his warriors. They fled, eyes wide.

Artos led the Southerners to the head of the room. "What is this, Artos?" Cornel wondered, still staring at Roma.

Instead of allowing the Night to answer, Roma dropped to his knees on the floor, not breaking the intense stare that stretched palpably between the two kings. "Cornel," he said, brokenly. "These children have managed to do what you and I could never bring ourselves to achieve. They have put aside their lifelong prejudices. Can we not do so as well?"

"Why has Artos brought you here?"

"He was – was concerned for my clan. He hurried to tell his friend, my son Lovino, so that we could plan a defense against this white horde if they managed to defeat you." Roma cleared his throat. "Lovino and Artos braved the wrath of the Days to bring Artos to me. I wish to make peace with you, Cornel, to do what I must; together we can stand firm against these foreign invaders and preserve our lands and families."

"Yes," was Cornel's simple response; he stepped forward and raised Roma, and the two leaders gave each other the kiss of peace with tears in their eyes.

Artos unbound his lover while Cornel did the same for Roma. Emboldened, the young blond asked, "Did you learn any further information from Edvard?"

"Only that the enemy is within three days' ride of our camp." Cornel paced a bit and then addressed Roma. "If we are to do anything, my old friend, we need to do it soon."

Roma nodded. "Joint muster of the clans?"

"It is the only way."

"Forgive me," Lovino now interposed. "But the clans may be very suspicious of this sudden alliance after so long a hostile threat. How can we make them accept it, and quickly?"

"Yes," Cornel considered. "A valid point. We cannot hold it on our clan land, or yours; the other would cry foul."

"Sir?" Artos suggested. "Perhaps hold the muster on Day land, but hold it at night? Each clan has a disadvantage, that way."

Roma looked approving, but waited for Cornel to speak. "Yes," the blond leader said, "except it must be done in reverse. It is nearly sunrise. We have to have the muster as soon as possible. We cannot wait for sundown."

"Muster on Night land, during the day, then," Lovino shrugged. "How will we convince them?"

"The word of the clan leader will be enough," his father told him, but Cornel put out a hand.

"I'm not certain that is so. My warriors might believe my judgment is clouded, especially coming on the heels of the news of the invaders." He paced a bit more. "An exchange of hostages?" he then asked Roma.

The Southern leader nodded eagerly. "Yes. Lovino will stay with you and Artos will come with me."

Lovino looked a bit nervous at that, but Cornel had not yet formally assured him of his safety. The Night leader seemed to realize this omission and crossed to him. "Forgive me, young Day. Lovino, the son of my dearest friend. Allow me to welcome you to the Night clan, and to thank you for your resourcefulness in helping to bring about the end to hostilities."

Lovino bowed; Cornel mirrored this. When they straightened, Artos and his lover darted quick smiles at one another. Their gamble had worked. Hopefully they could now convince the clans.

"Go with him now," Cornel directed Artos. "Roma is honorable; you will be safe. Lead the Day elves to the meeting field in three hours' time."

"Yes, sir." He nodded and stepped back. "Be strong," he whispered to Lovino in passing. He felt the brush of the Day's hand against his and smiled as Roma led him out the door.


	6. Shaking Off the Fear

**Shaking off the Fear.**

Artos, unbound, strode along sunlit pathways towards the meeting field, Roma at his side, dark elves fanning out behind them in anticipation. Much attention had been paid to him. Though their voices were hushed and accented, the blond could understand enough to realize that many of the Days were fearful of actually encountering the ferocious Night clan. He would have laughed, had the situation not been so serious.

Upon their return to the Southern city, Roma had called an immediate, impromptu meeting in the Days' market square. Dark elves were directed to round up everyone they could find, and to join the clan, unarmed, for a meeting with their traditional enemies. Artos had felt no fear, despite being surrounded by angry whispers. Perhaps it was due to the knowledge that two kings believed and trusted in him.

As they approached the wide plain, Artos could see the shining hair of his amassed comrades-in-arms, of the Night women and children. And on the dais next to Cornel, like a pinpoint focus for his eyes, Lovino's darkness drew his gaze. He relaxed slightly, pleased to see no harm had come to him.

Roma stopped his clan before they walked onto the plain. "As I have said. No aggression. No hostilities. We are all here to discuss the invasion by the white horde. Be at peace, my friends," he smiled. "The Nights will not harm us."

Artos, leading them onto the plain, prayed that was so. All it would take was one comment from some hothead like Elfred –

A murmur grew as elves dark and light mingled on the wide expanse of land, frankly staring at those from the opposite clan as they seated themselves. The children, he was pleased to see, had no hesitation about speaking to other children. Perhaps it took the naïveté of youth to fully break through those barriers.

He and Roma walked to the front of the combined group. Artos moved to stand with Elfred, who was right up front, but Cornel put out a hand and stopped him, gesturing for Artos to stand beside him on the dais. He did this, astonished at the size of the crowd. The two kings now met for a public kiss of peace, neither bending the knee to the other. A hush fell over the large group; Roma moved to stand between Cornel and Lovino.

In the new silence Artos believed he could hear the rustle of beetles in the grass, it was that quiet. The morning sun shone on them all. Women of his clan, and frail-eyed elves like Lukas, shielded their eyes from the harsh unusual light, but the blond warriors stood proud and firm in the sunlight, training standing them in good stead. Tino, nearest him, winked cheekily. Artos grinned back.

Cornel stepped forward to address the combined clans, taking Roma's hand in his with a curt smile. "Clans of Day and Night," he began in his public voice, higher-pitched than his usual deep tones so that it would carry further. "I am Cornel, king of the Night elves. Beside me stands Roma, king of the Days. I have received news from our Northern scouts of an invasion from the northeast, and we have agreed to end the feud between our clans in order to stand united against the white aggressor."

"Just like that?" someone asked. "After all these years?" Artos looked for the source and saw an elegant dark elf in a deep blue cloak, long hair tied back, with unusual purple eyes.

"This feud could have ended so long ago," Roma stated for all to hear, "but for the fact that the Night King and I were too stubborn. It took the open mind of my son Lovino and his heart's friend Artos to bring about this peace." He took a deep breath. "His actions in this have pleased me more than any thing I have ever known. It fills me with pride to confirm that Lovino will become king of the Day elves after me."

Artos darted a peek at his lover, who was (unsurprisingly) blushing; a loud cheer went up from the assembled Day elves.

Except one. The green-eyed elf they had encountered at the Day's compound was not paying attention to Roma or to Lovino, but scowling at Artos. Hah. Perhaps he wanted Lovino for himself, and now knew he'd never get him. Artos, secure in his love, smirked at him.

But his attention was drawn away by Cornel, stepping forward. "I too have an announcement," he began. "It is my wish that Artos take the throne after me." Artos blinked, but maintained his composure. _King?_ he wondered wildly. He was not fit to be king, had never been trained –

The hush this time descended on the clans like a blanket. Cornel cleared his throat. "It is only through his efforts that we have been able to end this generational feud. His efforts and Lovino's. Let us put aside our differences. Fight no longer. Befriend one another, and start a new and prosperous era together."

"Right after we kill all the white devils!" Elfred yelled, in an excess of exuberance, eliciting some snickers.

"Right after we kill all the white devils," Roma agreed with a short laugh.

This seemed to break the tension, and elves all over the field visibly relaxed, now turning to whisper to neighbors, or offer hesitant greetings to those from the opposing clan.

For the rest of the meeting Artos stood at attention, half focused on the battle discussion, and half on the surprising things his king had just said. To hear himself named heir to the throne, in front of both clans? He glanced around, seeing Ludovicus, who was staring at the ground. Artos did not know what to think. Ludovicus, trained all his life to be king, had lost it in an instant. And yet Artos did not want it…

He watched as a young dark elf – with hair much like Lovino's – laid a tentative hand on the muscular blond's arm. Ludovicus lifted his gaze to the newcomer. Some words were exchanged. Then Ludovicus' face took on an expression of wonder, and he offered his hand in peace to the Day. Ah.

Encouraged by this, Artos scanned the crowd for other interactions between Night and Day elves. He laughed silently as he saw Elfred staring at the purple-eyed Day who had spoken earlier. That elf seemed unaware of his effect on Artos' foster brother, and continued speaking to the dark female at his side. Was she a fighter too? The Northern clan had no female warriors.

Ultimately, with input from many of the warriors, it was decided to move the women and children of both clans to the western part of the Night lands, far distant from the proposed fighting. A small group of forty warriors, twenty from each clan, would accompany them for protection. Families began to stir from the field, heading to make preparations; friendly Day elf women assisted the Nights with children, guiding them in the harsh sunlight.

Artos' foster parents motioned to him where they stood near their son. He crossed, somewhat nervously.

"I am so proud of you, my son," his mother said, taking his face in her hands and smiling into his eyes. She kissed him and he felt the tears spring to his eyes.

"You will stay safe?" He held her briefly; Elfred, beside them, was embracing his father.

"I am going to take care of her." His father released Elfred and came to clap a hand onto Artos' shoulder. "I will go with the women and children. They will need protection there as well."

"That is well," Elfred told them. "Be at peace. We will defeat the invaders." He grinned.

"Elfred will defeat them single-handedly, no doubt," Artos teased, and all four of them laughed aloud. "Please stay safe."

"We will. Be strong, my sons." His foster mother embraced them each once more before turning away, sniffling.

By now most of the families had departed. The atmosphere of the meeting place had hardened as they had left. Now only a mass of elven fighters remained, fighters with much training, but none with real battle experience, saving the very old. Roma directed those remaining to break into two groups – mixed dark and light elves – and he and Cornel each took a group aside to discuss strategy and tactics.

Lovino met Artos between the two groups. "This has gone better than I'd dreamed," the dark elf admitted.

Artos smiled softly. "We are not through it yet, little one."

"Let us survive this battle, and weld our clans into one." Lovino took his hand briefly.

"Agreed," Artos grinned, moving to join Cornel's group. "Agreed!"


	7. The Distant Fighting

**The Distant Fighting.**

Cornel and Roma decided to form two battalions of attack. They would take the bulk of the fighters further north, in the hopes of engaging the horde in battle and defeating them far from the elven lands. Elves of both clans were sent out to prepare horses for travel, to bring weapons and supplies.

Lovino and Artos would command a smaller, deadlier core force, based on the northeast side of the Night compound, as the last line of defense.

Artos felt that splitting their forces was a very bad idea. The Night compound was easily defensible and had plenty of room for everyone of both clans inside the sturdy walls. They should remain entrenched, prepared for a long siege, and defend, defend, defend, until the invaders were crushed. And perhaps the white horde would not even travel in this direction. They should send out several new scouts – both Day and Night – to reconnoiter.

But Cornel – true to his vision of himself as a great war leader – was not to be dissuaded from his plan of attack. Lovino too pleaded with his father, but Roma – perhaps only wishing to accommodate his old friend – deferred to Cornel in this matter, and thus it was decided.

Cornel wanted to take all the sword-trained elves with him for the distant battle, but in the end it was decided to leave some at the camp as well. "Please take Elfred," Artos laughed. "He's likely to explode, otherwise."

Everyone laughed at the tall young elf, whose blue eyes were sparkling with excitement. "I'm fine," he said in a smallish voice, eliciting more laughter.

Mathias clapped him on the shoulder. "You will not be left behind. Ride with me." Elfred nodded eagerly.

Eventually Artos was left with many dark elves, and the best Night bowmen, fighters that he would trust with his life: François, Lukas, the taciturn Vash, who was the best sniper in the clan. Lovino selected the purple-eyed elf, the female warrior, a sleepy-eyed elf named Herakles, and a slighter dark one who wore his sleeves exceptionally long. Several others requested to stay and were accepted, nearly four hundred fighters with mixed skills. They began amassing weapons, food and drink, and bedding, in the barracks and surrounding areas nearest East Gate. Lovino directed some of his clansmen to go back, fetch weapons and food from the Southern city, and to ensure there were no elves remaining in that area. Many of Artos' clan members went along to assist.

Surprisingly, Ludovicus chose to ride in the vanguard, as did his new dark-haired friend (Lovino had introduced him as his younger brother Feli). A dark elf with short hair and exotic dark eyes chose this group also. The three of them seemed to be fast friends already. Roma himself requested the presence of the jealous green-eyed Day, known as Tonio; he had also asked for a tall elf wearing an impressive hat and a white mask (Artos wondered if he too had difficulty in the sunlight). Other fighters both old and young were split up according to each king's desire.

By nightfall the main force was ready to depart. The only sounds were the jingle of tack and the snorting and stamping of the horses. Cornel and Roma both gave Artos and Lovino the kiss of peace; no words were spoken between them. Artos hoped they would all come through this unscathed, but the realist in him knew this was unlikely.

"Get some rest," he directed their small force, once the battalions had left. "There is nothing to be gained by standing around now. We will sound the horn if we see a messenger." He directed Lukas to take first watch, as it was dark; the others departed to the barracks or to nap outdoors, near the hub of activity.

Lovino stood with him as they monitored all this. "What if we are wrong?" Artos asked him quietly. "What if the white horde is truly no threat; what if Edvard overreacted? Or perhaps the reverse is true; perhaps we are sending our warriors into certain death?"

"It is too late to change anything now," his friend pointed out. "You did your best to be reasonable. Even if you could call Cornel back, he is so set on a battle –"

"Yes. I believe he has long been frustrated this way, being trained as a warrior and having no outlet for it. Now that we are no longer at odds with those Southern devils –"

Lovino smiled at him. "My father never thought much about fighting. All he asked us to do was steer clear of those horrifying Nights."

They chuckled together. Then Artos noticed Vash's younger sister dragging some baskets out into the clearing. "Lili! What are you doing? You should have gone with the women and children!"

"I'm going to make a lot of extra arrows," she told him matter-of-factly. "You cannot expect that the enemy will graciously throw back all the ones we use to kill them."

Her tiny smile encouraged Artos, who grinned in response. "A very good idea. Forgive me." He introduced Lovino to the sister and brother, who sat to begin working on new arrows. Others began to settle down, or to help, but since the Day elves used swords, not bows, they would probably not be able to help much. Yet Artos was pleased at the interactions he saw.

He and Lovino sat up late, although neither of them had had much sleep the night before. Resting comfortably against the inside of the protective wall, they discussed all the astonishing changes the last day had brought. "I'm so thankful that we can now be together," Lovino told him, "without subterfuge."

"Yes," Artos agreed, "but I could wish we didn't have this battle hanging over us."

"Perhaps it will not get to us." Lovino squeezed his hand, lacing their fingers together.

"The others will do what they can."

"I am glad that our – our kings were able to be friends again."

"Did you know they were once lovers?" Artos asked. "That Cornel made him leave, so he could do his duty as king of the Night elves?"

Lovino shook his head. "How did you learn this?"

"Your father told me, when I was acting as hostage."

Lovino frowned subtly. "I always wondered why my father never took another wife, when my mother died. Maybe he was being true to Cornel, in his way."

"Perhaps." Smiling softly, he leaned against Lovino. "As I will always be true to you."

As time slid on, their conversation became quieter, until both elves fell asleep, still resting against each other, leaning back against the curtain wall.

…

The next day passed in much the same way. Everyone who had been on edge, bustling with purpose and nerves, had begun to relax. There was no longer a group of warriors pacing around, or frenetically climbing the wall to peer out and see the empty landscape every ten minutes. Everyone knew it would be quite some time before they heard anything. Many, however, including Artos, had brought bedrolls and supplies out to camp near the gate, so as not to miss any news.

He lay exhausted on his pallet and watched the currents of movement among the elves. Watched them working, preparing food, sleeping, befriending one another. He even saw François flirting with the female elf. She did not seem interested, yet François persisted. Artos chuckled to himself.

Lovino had said "let us weld our clans into one"; Artos, seeing this development here, felt as though their clans were already one. One clan that had somehow misplaced half of itself, and had only just now found it. For certainly any previous rancor between the Night and Day elves had completely vanished.

Artos was so very glad of that.

…

"Awake!" The voice of the elf with long sleeves shocked him out of sleep. "A messenger approaches!"

It was near sunset on the fourth day. All the elves within earshot lost their lax demeanor and eagerly scrambled to the top of the wall, although the Night elves had some difficulty seeing. "It's Feli," the guard announced.

"My brother?" Lovino, still on the ground, asked. "How far?"

"Three minutes."

Lovino and Artos hastened to open the gates. Feli galloped through them three minutes later and slid off his horse, practically in tears, hanging onto his brother's shoulders. "Ve, Lovino, Lovino! There is a big battle!"

Lovino sighed. "Why did Father ever think he could make a warrior out of you?"

Feli ignored this. "I had to sleep in the bushes last night! Oh, ve, it was terrible, Lovi. There are a lot more of them than there are of us!"

Artos' eyes met Lovino's. This had been just what they had feared. Edvard's information had been so sketchy and panicked that no one had troubled to learn just how big the enemy force really was. Or what kind of weapons they had. Or how they fought – mounted, or on foot? Artos ground his teeth, raking a hand through his hair in frustration.

Vash hurried up with a tankard of cool water for the messenger. Feli emptied it in one long draught and turned to his brother and the other dark elves, tears brimming in his dark eyes. "_Lovi~!_"

"Stop that," Lovino said, taking him by the shoulders and shaking him. "What is the message? Tell me what you are supposed to tell me."

"Oh. There is no message. Ve, the battle started, and then I fled!"

"Nobody sent you?" Artos demanded. Now he too wondered how Feli could be considered a warrior. "Tell us what you saw." They should get what information they could. "When did the battle start?"

Feli told them the little he knew. "We came to a big empty space, but we could see fires from a camp in the distance. Father asked Cornel if we could parley, send a small group with a white flag. They argued a lot and then finally Cornel said yes, ve. S-some elves went about halfway over, and instead of a parley, a bunch of enemies came out fighting and screaming!" He huddled into himself, crying. "Ve. T-tonio was in that group, Lovi. He stood and fought so that the others could get away. But – but he died." Feli sniffled.

"Calm down," Lovino said, his face white. He halfheartedly embraced his brother. "But keep talking."

The enemy forces, Feli went on to say, were led by a fearsome being, all white – "ve, white hair, white clothes, white skin – the only things not white were his scary red eyes and the blood on his sword!" Other than the leader, whose horse was a pristine white, they all rode pale grey horses, fighting with sword and lance. "Father – he was right out in front, ve, Lovi. I hope he lives," he concluded weakly.

"I hope so too," Lovino muttered. "But we don't have the leisure to sit around panicking. If there are truly that many of them, then we must prepare for the worst."

"Wait," Artos asked. "What time did they attack?"

All the Day elves stared at Artos as if he was mad, but the Nights understood. Feli did not respond immediately.

"Well?" Lovino barked, shoving his younger brother. "Answer the question."

"I don't know the time exactly," Feli quavered. "Before noon?"

Artos' mouth split into a wide triumphant grin. "Then maybe we have them," he said, and his friends agreed. "If Cornel held them off."

"Forgive me," Lovino ground out, "but I have no idea what you are talking about!"

François laughed merrily. "They fight during the day," he scoffed.

"Everybody fights during – th-the –" Herakles stammered to a halt. "Ah, yes. They can engage the enemy at night."

"Mounted on pale horses, they would be easy targets." Vash was smug.

Now the dark elves were looking intrigued as well. "How many of them were there?" the purple-eyed elf asked Feli.

"Ve, lots!"

"Don't be stupid," Lovino said. "Twice as many as we had? Three times?"

"Lovino, ve, really, I don't know. Before the parley, Father did say he would send a messenger later. I hope someone will come soon. Ve, I hope it's Kiku! I don't want him to be in the middle of the scary fight!"

The female fighter, Elisa, shook her head. "Kiku is a warrior, Feli. He will stay and fight."

"Come, relax until we have real news," Artos told them all. "Feli, please go refresh yourself in the barracks. I presume you will not wish to take messages back to the fighting?"

A weak "ve" was the only response; Lovino rolled his eyes at this. "Just go," he told his brother. "We will figure out what to do."

Nodding, Feli limped off towards the barracks. Lukas, now more comfortable because the sun was setting, took the exhausted horse to the stables.

"Well?" Lovino demanded of Artos. "Night fighting is your area of expertise. What do we do?"

"We could send a scout. Someone more reliable than your brother."

"He's an idiot," Lovino snarled.

"Do not trouble yourself. We do have a little more information than before. Do you have a rider who can travel fast? We should send two, one from each clan."

Lovino selected Rodri, the purple-eyed elf; Artos chose Vash. They gave them instructions to ride, scout, and return. "You are not to engage. Do you understand?"

"I understand," Rodri said stiffly. Vash merely gave the clan salute, a palm over his heart.

"Stay safe," Artos begged them. "For your own sake as well as ours."

The two fighters nodded and headed to the stables for fresh horses.

…

They had expected a delay of at least two days for the two to ride out and return. Two of the Night elves were now on watch. Lovino was speaking with his brother, off to the side. Artos was exhausted, but could not rest. Not until he knew what was happening.

"We only had two thousand warriors," he said to François. "If they were at all evenly-matched, the battle might not even have lasted one day. But if we were hopelessly outnumbered –"

"Yes, my old friend," François murmured. "Then our forces are gone, and the white horde may well be on its way."

"Pray for them," Artos muttered. "Pray for us all."

…

The next night he and Lili were trying to teach Lovino and Feli how to make arrows when their work was interrupted by a shout. "Riders," the lookout called.

Artos directed them to open the gates; Rodri and Vash rode in with Edvard, all covered in dust, and slid off their horses to collapse on the ground. Elisa led their exhausted horses to the stables immediately, perhaps seeking an excuse to get away from François.

"What news?" Artos asked. François brought water for them while other elves supported them where they sat.

"It's all over," Vash told them, drinking. "Not good, but not as bad as it could be."

"Please elaborate," Lovino begged.

Rodri nodded wearily at Vash and drank. The blond elf spoke briskly. "Our forces are returning slowly. Cornel sent us back to reassure you. They have demolished the enemy horde, but at great cost to our clans."

"All should hear this. Please wait." Artos called for all the warriors to join them.

…

_Sorry. Headcanon or not, I don't believe Gilbert was heading to town for the souvenir spoons._


	8. The Tale of the White Horde

**The Tale of the White Horde.**

The warriors had journeyed with light hearts, confident in their ability to fight and preserve their homes. Elves sang songs of battle, of comfort and the hearth, as their horses pranced in the dark. Those of the Northern clan assisted their Southern brethren, who could not see as well at night; when day arrived, the roles reversed.

Three days of journey through fertile grounds left them feeling as though at a festival; they had encountered no resistance, seen no white horde. From all accounts Roma himself was by now disbelieving of the story of the enemy. He had only the secondhand word – from Edvard to Artos – to speak to its truth. They say that he argued with Cornel, tried to turn the stern leader's mind to retreat.

And yet Cornel, long thwarted in battle desire, refused to listen. He spent long hours alone with Roma in his tent, conferring on strategy. Elves who dared to interrupt them were treated patiently, but in the final camp, the two kings came forth and announced that the preparations for battle would go on.

Scouts reported the location of the white horde – at that time lounging in a rudimentary encampment not far from theirs.

Roma now argued for a parley. He considered that the previous battle had been a misunderstanding. That perhaps the horde had been defending itself against other, more belligerent foes.

Parleys were a waste of time in Cornel's opinion; the cowering Raivis' presence seemed to reinforce this. However, no one but Edvard and Raivis felt actual danger at the moment. After some arguing, the kings called for six volunteers.

Tonio stepped forward immediately and received a sympathetic nod from his king. Five others joined him. Roma handed one of them a white flag, another took a horn, and they were directed to ride into the open plain and sound the call to open negotiations.

All watched them ride out bravely, the white flag flapping gaily in the breeze. Later almost everyone agreed that they had expected the parley to succeed, to peacefully negotiate with the enemy and turn them away from the elven lands.

And that is why, when the white horde sent out a group of ten to meet the elves, the watchers did nothing but inhale sharply. Everyone noted their magnificent horses and pristine clothing.

At a vivid hand signal from their leader, the small group of white fighters fell on the elven group with swords, screaming and laughing. Most of the elves turned and ran in fear; Tonio alone stayed to fight, to keep the enemy occupied while his companions fled to safety. The ranks of watchers froze, disbelieving.

The fleeing elves had not yet reached the safety of their ranks before Tonio fell. But the dark elf had taken three of the enemy with him.

The white leader then let loose a bloodcurdling cry audible to all, which broke the shocked elves from their paralysis; with the battle cry rising in unison from every throat, they charged the enemy, intent on revenge.

Cornel's battle plans fell to pieces as screaming elves ran haphazardly onto the plain, brandishing their swords. As if they had been hidden in ambush, members of the white horde swarmed out from behind bushes and trees, on horses and on foot, and engaged.

The two kings struggled to reach the front of the fighting, to show their warriors courage and focus. Roma took a sword thrust in the arm almost immediately, but dispatched his opponent skillfully. Others fought, enraged at an enemy who would cut down a diplomatic force without negotiating.

Mathias and Elfred fought side by side, hacking their way through the enemy towards the white leader. When that red-eyed killer saw the tall, ferocious Mathias approach, he halted in mid-swing, and the blond elf struck true. The white leader died before his body hit the ground.

But his companion, a grinning madman with a scarf around his neck, spitted Mathias with his sword immediately afterwards. That enemy had no further chance to kill; Elfred avenged his friend at once, and continued to fight like a demon, laying waste to every white enemy he could reach.

The death of the white leader had an almost alarming effect on his forces. No longer did they fight randomly and with vigor; now they simply went through the motions, halfheartedly defending themselves and often not bothering to fight. Within an hour of his death the elves had wiped out the entire enemy force. Every last one of them. Cornel stopped and looked around the plain, amazed, as were the others, who stood bewildered, searching in vain for more enemies to fight.

The area was littered with the bodies of the dead – elves as well as enemy, dirt and dried blood caking every available surface. Less than half the elven forces had perished in the battle, and the white horde was no more.

As it was nearing nighttime, Cornel delegated a group of his fighters to dig a hasty grave pit for the fallen. The bodies of Mathias and the white leader, he decided, would be taken back to the compound for formal burial, as well as some others who had distinguished themselves. Elves sought Tonio's body on the field, to honor his bravery, but it could not be identified amidst the carnage.

Roma had suffered many sword thrusts during the fighting. One or two might not have killed him, but so many taken all together caused much blood loss and weakened the elder king. Cornel sat by his companion's side and would not be moved, not until he knew Roma's shade had departed for the Halls of the Dead. When Roma was gone, he kissed the cold forehead and closed his eyes with a gentle hand.

Cornel did not weep, but walked stoically beside the cart that held the dead king, as the reduced forces of both clans plodded wearily southwest to return to their homelands.


	9. The Price of Peace

**The Price of Peace.**

By the time Edvard had recounted that full story, Artos was crushed. Was it worth it? All these deaths?

When he mentioned this to Lovino, the Southerner felt that it was worth it. "For what have we gained? The end of a feud that had lasted for generations, the end of fear; the friendship of the neighboring clan. You can see that it was almost waiting to happen. No one really had a problem with working together. Many were even eager to do so. And we have eliminated the white horde, no matter what their intentions."

Artos nodded, panicking inside. Lovino was truly trained in kingcraft, whereas he – he knew he was not suited for it at all. And so he paced, while Lovino walked with him, trying to bring some peace to his heart. "Will you please calm yourself?"

Hah. Lovino was no longer the sweet seducer, but the frustrated companion. Artos had more fight training, but the Days spent their time in peaceful contemplation as well. Lovino's world view was broader, while Artos felt as though all his thoughts and energies were focused on a single point, the point at which the remainder of the army would return. He wondered how Elfred had fared, but was afraid to ask anyone.

His lover tried to break the tension by changing the conversation away from the battle, repeatedly, and it did not work.

They paced some more, Artos worrying and Lovino trying to soothe him, and suddenly the dark elf grabbed Artos by the back of the neck and kissed him, firmly, interrupting a tirade. The blond, at first shocked and somewhat embarrassed, then responded eagerly to the kiss, forgetting the activity around them. He was thankful it was daylight now: not many of his clan would be watching him as he succumbed to this fleeting pleasure.

"Wh-why?" he asked, when Lovino released him.

"You are too uptight. I understand that you're upset. But you need to calm down. You will be too strung out to think, else."

Artos nodded. "It has always been a failing of mine in a crisis – to dwell too much on possibility and lose sight of the here and now." He remembered the enervating days after he'd experienced Lovino's first kiss, and smiled. Grabbing the dark elf by the arm, he ducked behind a tree and cupped the beloved face in both hands, kissing him passionately.

"My love, you – constantly surprise me," Lovino breathed, when they'd broken apart. "In a very good way." He grinned. "If only we had time and private place right now…"

"We will come through it. There will be time." Artos rubbed his thumb over the back of Lovino's neck. "Though I strongly wish we had not been named the successors to the clan leadership," he admitted, having not dared to voice this before now.

"Why? I am proud of both of us. Together we can do it."

"I have no training in such a thing. Had never thought of it. Had no interest in it."

"And now?"

"Still no interest," he confessed. "I find myself thinking on this white horde, on the many things that must lie outside the borders of my land, my narrow mind. I had begun to dream of journeying the wide world with you at my side, learning more about each other, and about the world itself; this has not changed, with the advent of battle." He paused and took Lovino's hands in his. "If you had not been named clan leader for the Days, I would give it over to Ludovicus, who has long trained to be king, and ask you to come roam with me."

Lovino leaned against him. "I have, by contrast, trained for it all my life. And yet, right here, right now, I would abandon it all to go with you. But there is no one else. Feli was trained for it, but he is so scatterbrained that the only things he really learned were the – the morale aspect, you might say. He is a friendly one – almost everyone loves him – yet that is not the only requirement for leadership. And my father never seemed to consider that something might prevent me taking the kingship. Or that I might not want it."

"We will devise a plan," Artos promised him with a kiss. "If I can be with you, then, staying or going, it does not really matter. Now, come back out in the light, and pace with me, and keep me focused with your logical and resolute conversation."

Lovino patted him on the shoulder. "Whatever it takes to keep you focused, I shall do." The two shared a quick smile before they heard Cornel outside, directing them to open the gates.

Activity now became both brisk and languid: returning warriors trudged inside wearily, while those who had remained in the North encampment were energetic, helpful, and wildly curious. Artos, dazed, watched the carts and horses bearing the dead and wounded, and felt himself grow numb. They had seen the cold body of Sadiq being carried past, his mask finally gone to reveal the handsome face beneath. Edvard had also told him that the cheerful Tino had died on the battlefield, trying to protect his best friend from an enemy spear. So many dead…

...

Later, they and Feli went to see Cornel. "Your father sent his blessing," the Night king told them, "and his – his best wishes for a prosperous and fulfilled life." Here the austere elf hung his head and began silently weeping, still holding the hand of his departed comrade.

"Thank you," Feli told him calmly, bowing. "We are glad to know you honor our fallen father and king."

Lovino gave his brother an approving look. Artos, standing nearby, but not too near, was more concerned with Cornel's lassitude. Was this entire situation going to fall on the untried shoulders of Lovino and himself?

No, he reminded himself. They had others with them, others with good ideas to help the clans move forward. They were not alone. He made a motion to Lovino, but he was now gazing sadly at the line of injured warriors, the line of carts holding elves that had died in the battle. Artos crossed to him.

One cart had only two bodies in it, although there was room for many more. They both walked up to it; a dark fighter whose name he did not know halted the horse's progression.

Inside lay the bloodied body of Mathias. Artos felt the tears spring to his eyes and he let them fall, taking his friend's cold hand in his own, unable to speak. He would miss the tall, hard-drinking elf greatly. Artos felt Lovino step back to allow him some privacy.

When he was able to look at the other corpse – "Oh! This is the leader?" He was indeed all white. His mouth was stretched in a surprised _O_, mad red eyes frozen wide in death. The dark elf nodded.

Artos wiped the tears from his eyes. "They will be buried together?"

"Yes. Cornel wishes the white leader to be buried at Mathias' feet."

Several other Nights had come to peer inside the cart, many of them now weeping as well. Lovino now approached timidly, apparently not wanting to interrupt the grieving Night elves, and drew the cart driver aside for speech.

"Mathias was such an honorable elf," Artos intoned, letting go of the cold hand.

"Noble and strong," Lukas agreed sadly, stroking the matted hair from Mathias' forehead.

François sighed, placing a hand on Artos' shoulder and squeezing briefly. "He will be sorely missed."

They spent a moment in silence, in memory. Then, one by one, the Night elves dispersed to assist the returning warriors further. Artos, left standing by the cart, searched for his friend, and found Lovino already approaching. "We must find a burying place for them and mark it to honor Mathias' bravery."

"Have you a burial ground suitable for all the fallen?" his lover asked quietly, drawing him aside. Artos watched as the dark elf began to lead the cart away again.

"N-no," Artos realized. "I – we –"

"I have a suggestion. What do you think of this? Do you remember the night I came to you outside your South Gate? When I bit your ear?" Lovino smiled a little sadly. "What if we bury them in that strip of ground between the gate and the woods? As a remembrance, between North and South, guarding the gate and the road to the south?"

Artos took his hands. "Little one, you have the true heart of a king. Yes. Let us do that."

"But it was not my idea." Lovino gestured with his chin back towards the elf with the cart, nearly out of sight now.

"No matter. It is still a worthwhile idea." Artos squeezed his hands.

"We need to tend to the injured warriors. And do you have enough implements for, for, for digging the graves?" At this, Lovino's voice broke; Artos gathered him in his arms.

The two stood isolated until Lovino stopped his tears and dashed them from his face. "Forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive, my love," Artos smiled. "Rest now, with your brother. I will send everyone else where they need to be."

Lovino nodded one last time, returning to Feli. Artos walked off briskly, giving orders to those who were still able to work, directing them to the new burying ground. Several elves moved off to find shovels to go begin digging the new graves; he watched as both Feli and Lovino moved off in that direction as well.

The blond finally found Elfred and discovered that he had survived without a scratch, which pleased him and yet somehow irritated him immeasurably as well. "You would not believe how many of the white devils I slayed!"

"Yes, brother, I understand. I am glad you were able to fight so well."

Elfred nodded. At this point a dirty, grinning Ludovicus joined them. Artos still felt awkward about the kingship, but he thrust that thought aside for now. He needed to focus.

"The white devils found a dangerous enemy in our clan," the burly elf chuckled, elbowing Elfred, who laughed outright before sobering again.

"Yet we lost so many." He turned to face his foster brother. "We must bury the dead now."

"A detail has been sent out. Those warriors of both clans who died will be buried in the lands between South and North, a watchful barrier against future hostilities." Artos was pleased to be able to impart this information.

"That is a very good idea indeed," Ludovicus agreed.

"I cannot take credit for it. A dark elf – I do not know his name – suggested it to Lovino." The other two nodded. "I must go to the burial site," Artos then said. "Lovino is overseeing the preparations."

Here Elfred embraced him. "You have a true treasure in your friend," he said quietly. "I hope that I can find one as true to my heart, someday."

Artos, moved, held the taller elf close. "I am sure that you will, my brother. Be true to yourself, and one will be true to you."

…

Everyone bent his steps towards the new burying ground for a brief memoriam. Artos and Ludovicus assisted Cornel to the site.

Kiku, the dark elf who had been leading Mathias' death cart, spoke some very moving words over the bodies of their fallen comrades. He concluded, "Let these warriors guard not only against enemy invasion, but against hostilities between our clans. Let us not forget that we joined together in peace to defend our homes, homes that these fighters died to protect. There should be peace between us now. Let us remember."

Over six hundred fighters had fallen. Most had been hastily interred near the battlefield, with not more than a few quick words gabbled over the makeshift graves. The others lay here with all the honors the combined clans could give.

Tears fell unashamedly as elves mourned their fallen comrades. Lovino and Feli stood quietly to the side, near the grave of their father, marked with the king-stone that Cornel had commissioned years ago for his own grave. He had deemed it better used to honor his beloved Roma, so long an enemy, reconciled too late. The Night king had whispered to Artos that when he died, he wished to be buried at Roma's side. But after that comment, Cornel remained standing near the gate, staring at nothing. Artos, his own love still new and fresh, felt his heart aching at the thought of his king's loss.

Everyone eventually filtered back into the protected Northern lands. At Ludovicus' suggestion, Artos sent a runner to the compound where the women and children were, to spread the news and bring them back. Southern elves prepared to return to their homes, some with new friends from the Night clan accompanying them.

"Will you show me your home?" Lovino then asked him quietly. "I don't wish to part from you, but I am very tired of being out in the center of all this activity."

The blond smiled at him. "My home is in the barracks. Let us go to the river instead."

Lovino grinned back. "The river it shall be, little one."

…

Nestled close under a spreading willow near the footbridge, the two took their sweet time celebrating life, unhurried yet passionate, demanding yet caring. When the sun began to rise, warming Artos' skin, he awoke and pulled Lovino closer, waking him as well. "I believe I want to be buried at this spot," the dark elf laughed, combing his fingers through Artos' hair, which now had leaves and grass sticking to it.

"Do not speak yet of dying, little one," the blond retorted, pulling his lover close for a morning kiss.

Lovino cuddled closer to him. "Until I met you, I was content with my place in the clan. After the clans joined, I was then content to think we would rule them together." He took Artos' hand and played with his strong fingers.

"And now?"

"You had that idea of traveling with me. This has begun to obsess me a little. I can think of nothing but abandoning my duties and venturing out into the world with you."

"Nothing but that?" Artos asked him with a teasing smile, fingers tickling the lobe of Lovino's bejeweled ear.

"Well. Almost nothing, shining one."

…

When they had sated themselves once more, Artos returned to the discussion. "I know Ludovicus would do it. Cornel himself trained him; my clan has expected it for years. But I wonder whether your clan would accept him as king."

"I'm sure those who fought with him would. My brother is very impressed with him."

"Forgive me that I must say this, but…it does not seem difficult to impress your brother." Artos held his breath.

"There is nothing to forgive. We both know Feli's head is full of air." Lovino lay back on the pile of discarded clothing with a sigh. "You know that we would both need to address the clans. Everyone heard my father and Cornel name us successors. We would have to make it quite clear that we were willingly standing down." Lovino thought. "Perhaps if I named my brother in my stead. Not as king, obviously, but as a sort of – of – _assistant_ to your Ludovicus." His tongue tripped over the unfamiliar syllables. "Someone to ensure that the Days did not get mistreated at his hands. But Cornel – would he object to you doing this?"

Artos took his hand. "I do not believe that Cornel is truly in a position to notice much. It is as if his heart died with Roma."

"If I lost you, little one, I would feel the same." Lovino wrapped an arm around the blond and drew him close again.

"Do not distract me, Lovino. I am trying to work it out."

"I know. As am I. But do we not have time for a little more pleasure, first?"

Artos grinned. "Perhaps just a little time."

…

They dressed themselves and wandered back to the camp. "Maybe you should come to live with me," Lovino suggested, as they walked.

"What? Why?"

"It may work to – to ease Cornel into familiarity with your absence. I do not expect that my duties will be very tedious – certainly things like fight training and scouting can be lessened – and if the clans are combining, as they seem to be informally doing, then it is natural for everyone to consider moving to a new location to live. Right now, you have no true duties, am I right?"

"You are right. For now."

"If you were to come and live with me in my home, the Nights would become accustomed to your absence. It might assist us when the time comes to leave."

Artos considered this as they walked. "This may work. However, it is dishonorable to abandon my duties – no matter how inept at them I may actually be – in such an underhanded fashion."

"Let us speak to your friend. If he truly wants the kingship, perhaps he can help us solidify a plan."

The two headed back towards South Gate with a little more purpose in their strides.


	10. Taking the Future in One's Hands

**Taking the Future in One's Hands.**

Artos had been correct. When he and Lovino appealed to the Night king, wishing to discuss their desire to leave, the elder elf had merely flapped a hand at them, shading his eyes, not speaking. Quietly they withdrew to the shade of an elm tree in the compound, where elves of both clans were working and talking. "You see that we will get nowhere with him," Artos grimaced.

"Then we should take matters into our own hands. Let us speak to your Lu-Ludovicus."

"It would at least be a beginning." The Night stopped a passing friend to ask the muscular blond's whereabouts, and was directed to the new burial ground.

"That is surprising. Let us go there." Together the two made their way through the now-bustling compound, smiling and greeting friends along the way.

Outside South Gate, Ludovicus was standing by the fresh graves with both Feli and a dark elf at his side, the one who had spoken at the burial ceremony. Lovino and Artos approached somewhat hesitantly, not wishing to interrupt a private moment.

But Feli spotted them and threw himself at Lovino with a cry. "Ve! Oh, Lovi. I am so glad you have come here. Did you ever meet my new friend Ludovicus?" His eyes twinkled as he formally introduced the two; Artos felt rustic and inept, having so far failed to provide this courtesy. He felt a blush rising and kept his eyes on the ground.

But – "Artos, please come and be introduced to Kiku," Ludovicus said.

"Your words were very moving to me," the blond said to the quiet dark elf, after the introductions had been performed. "Thank you for doing honor to both our clans."

"I thank you for your kind words. It is my belief – it is _our_ belief," Kiku said, indicating Feli and Ludovicus, "that the clans are meant to be as one. That we were once one clan, which somehow split apart."

"We have been thinking this way also," Lovino told them. He then glanced at Artos, who knew the time was right to talk to Ludovicus.

"Will you walk with me?"

Slightly puzzled, Ludovicus nodded and bid his Southern friends farewell. Lovino spoke to them at the burial site while Artos drew Ludovicus off in private; in a few seconds Kiku bowed and headed into the North compound.

Artos turned to his friend and quietly brought up the topic of the kingship. Before he could continue, Ludovicus – surprisingly – blushed. "I am happy for you," the taller elf stated calmly.

"But I am not." Artos took a deep breath. "All in our clan know that Cornel has trained you for the kingship. I, by contrast, am ill-equipped for this duty."

The taller elf nodded in sympathy. "But what can be done? Do you wish me to help teach you?"

Artos shook his head. "Surely you have noticed that Cornel has lost his will to – to live," he faltered. "I do not believe he is capable of ruling the clan any longer."

"I too have come to this conclusion." Ludovicus waited patiently for Artos to continue.

"Let me be blunt. I do not wish to be king. I would feel more secure in the clan's future if you took the kingship."

Ludovicus raised his eyebrows. "But everyone heard you named heir to the throne."

"Everyone in our clan was astonished by that, my friend, none more so than I. The entire clan knew that you were to be king after Cornel. If I made a formal announcement, turning the kingship back to you, there would be none to challenge it save possibly Cornel, who, as we see, has lost interest in his duties. None would object; in fact, most would probably be relieved. Many of them do not even know me. You are the one they have been trained to accept for many years, the one in whom their confidence rests."

Ludovicus appeared to think this over. "What of your friend Lovino? He was named successor to Roma, who is now dead. Will you go with him to the Southern lands?"

"Like you," Artos explained, "Lovino has been trained to take the throne. As leader of the isolated Day clan, he felt that he would be at least a passable leader, if not the firm and resolute type that Roma was. If our clans are to merge, we – he – sees no need for two separate kings. He is willing to trust my word and name you as the heir to the Southern throne as well." He cleared his throat, gesturing towards South Gate. "Although everyone can see that there will not be a harsh division between North and South for much longer – if in fact such a thing still exists."

"King of the combined clans?" The wonder was evident in his companion's voice. "But the Day elves might not accept that."

"This is why Lovino is speaking with his brother now. If – if you are amenable, he would name Feli as Roma's successor. Feli is apparently not – not, ah, _developed_ enough to be a suitable clan leader on his own, but he is well-loved amongst the Days, known to all as a fair and friendly young man. If he were named as a, a – a –"

"Counterbalance?" Ludovicus suggested.

Artos nodded feverishly. "Just so. An aide to you, someone to ensure that the Days have equal say in the future of the combined clans. Someone they know, and trust, and love." He paused. "But of course this is all dependent upon you, and upon Feli."

"That is a good strategy, though."

Artos shrugged with a smile. "Lovino's idea."

Ludovicus chuckled. "I have no objections at all to this plan, provided all other parties – you, Lovino, Feli, Cornel – all agree to it as well. I must admit that Feli has been a cheerful and charming companion so far, although he showed no battle prowess at all."

The two blond elves sighed in unison and then laughed together. "Let us see what Lovino has discovered."

They returned to the dark brothers. "Ve! Ludovicus! Did Artos tell you the news?" Feli was practically jumping up and down in his excitement.

"Don't get out of control," Lovino warned, placing a hand on his little brother's shoulder.

Ludovicus bowed to them. "I would be more than pleased to accede to your request, if all others are willing."

"I'm willing! I'm willing, ve!"

"Stop that!" Lovino cautioned again.

But Artos laughed. "Ah, let him exult, Lovino. It is not every day that something like this happens."

At that, Lovino nodded in agreement and smiled – very slightly – at Artos. "When should we – we decide this? Announce it?" the brunet then asked.

"Cornel's feelings must be taken into account," Ludovicus said. "Although he is not concerned with the clan at this moment, it may come to pass that he regains his outlook and begins to rule again."

Artos and Lovino glanced at each other. They did not wish to merely exist here, waiting for Cornel to regain his focus, before they could leave the compound. But neither was willing to say that, just yet. "I do not know how to make him understand," Artos said instead, and Lovino nodded in agreement.

"Ve. We will think of something."

Ludovicus cleared his throat. "Have you spoken to anyone in your clan about this possibility?" he asked Lovino.

"No. None but Feli, just now."

"Do you think they will support your decision? If it is hastily made, and there is rancor, they may not agree."

"I had not thought of that," Lovino confessed. "If someone else were to stand by my decision – someone from my clan –"

"Ve, what about Kiku?" Feli put his head to one side and regarded the others. "He is very smart. Everyone knows he is honorable."

"Kiku is a true diplomat," Ludovicus agreed. "If your clan regards him as highly as mine does, then his presence, serving to underscore your decision, would carry much weight."

"I do not object," Lovino told them. "Kiku is a better choice than most." Here he turned to his little brother. "But for now, it would be better not to speak of this to anyone. That means you, Feli."

"I can keep a secret, ve. Didn't I keep secret about Artos?"

Both the blond and the dark elf were astonished. "You knew about Artos?"

"Ve, yes, of course I did. You were _singing_ while you did your chores one day! I had to find out why, so I followed you. Of course when I saw you and Artos together it made me happy, and I didn't want to spy on you, ve, so I came back home." He beamed at his brother.

Artos knew he was blushing. So was Lovino. "Thank you for not spying on us," the blond eventually said, as Ludovicus tried to stifle a grin.

"And for not telling F-father," his lover added.

"Ve. But you can see that I can keep a secret."

"Yes, we see. All right. Let us go back to camp and speak to Kiku."

…

_Ceilo asked about the characters._

_Day elves (dark hair): Grandpa Rome, Romano, Veneziano, Spain, Greece, Hungary, Austria, Turkey, China, Japan, Lithuania. South Korea is the craftsman who made Lovino's earring._

_Night elves (blond): Germania, England, Germany, America, Norway, Denmark, France, Liechtenstein, Swissy, Finland, Sweden, Latvia, Estonia. Belgium and Netherlands are Artos' foster parents._

_White Horde: Prussia, Russia, Canada, Belarus, Ukraine, Poland and Iceland. Prussia, Russia, Ukraine and Ice are all drawn with white-ish hair in the anime; Belarus has the mentality to go with the White Horde; Poland, because the Polish hussars were, like, totally fearsome._

_Canada was only in the White Horde because I forgot about him when making my master list of blond elves! That kid can't catch a break._


	11. Establishing New Rules

**Establishing New Rules.**

After a detailed meeting with Kiku – during which he was alternately intrigued by and approving of the new plans – Ludovicus had taken Cornel inside and was now speaking to him privately. The others waited outside in the compound to hear the results of the discussion. Kiku and Feli sat calmly under a tree while Artos and Lovino paced together.

"He will get nowhere," Artos muttered pessimistically into Lovino's ear.

"Hope for the best," his friend replied.

Almost an hour later, weary, Ludovicus exited the barracks, smoothing his hair into place. "Ve!" Feli yelled, hurrying to his side. Kiku too stepped close to him. Artos and Lovino followed more sedately.

"My friends," Ludovicus began. "Please – come to a place where we can speak privately."

Once isolated, under the trees, Ludovicus continued. "Forgive me, Artos, for what I must say."

"Please continue. Do not seek to spare my feelings."

"Very well. Cornel understands that his decision was made in haste. He had begun to regret his announcement, understanding that it was only the joy of reconciliation with – with Roma, that had raised you so high in his estimation." He darted nervous glances at both Roma's sons.

Artos grimaced and nodded. "He has changed his mind?"

"Understanding that we have all discussed this, he is now relieved, and wishes to – to retract what he said. In front of the combined clans. He does not wish to cause you distress, however, or make you lose face before everyone."

Artos felt Lovino squeeze his hand and replied, "It does not signify. I am planning to go with Lovino in any case." He squeezed back and laced their fingers together.

"Then Cornel is willing to hold a muster and publicly retract his statement, naming me as heir once more." Ludovicus could not meet Artos' eyes. "I am so sorry, Artos."

"It is immaterial, my friend. The kingship is not a position I would seek."

"When will the muster take place?" Kiku asked delicately.

"Tomorrow, just before sunrise. He would like to speak with Artos privately, first, and wants us to spread the word to the clans."

Lovino cleared his throat. "Does he understand the announcement that I will be making?"

"I believe he does. I did my utmost to explain it to him. Whether or not it sank in, that is a different matter."

"Ludovicus," Artos now asked, "do you think he will recover? To lead the clans?"

"I cannot be certain. Apparently he has refused to eat since the death of Roma. I do not wish him to die, but if he continues like this – " He left the sentence hanging.

"Maybe he will recover once he makes the announcement and settles things," Kiku suggested.

"Ve. We will take care of him, won't we, Ludovicus?"

The blond elf smiled at Feli, blushing. "Together we can do it." He took the young Day's hand shyly and turned to Kiku. "I value your insights. I am pleased that you will assist us as we move forward."

Kiku bowed. "It will be my honor."

…

The clans mustered again, women and children now back from the west. No one knew what Cornel would say, and the silence was almost as deep as previously. Artos stood in the crowd this time with his foster parents and Elfred; Lovino, in front with Cornel.

The king began with a few bald remarks thanking everyone for rising to deal with the recent troubles; commiserating with those who had lost friends and family, and restating his hope that the two clans would no longer feel hostility towards one another.

Artos, listening from the front of the ranks, felt his heart swell with love for his stern king. Cornel had begun to recover. This pleased him; he would be able to journey forth with a lighter heart.

As, embarrassed, Cornel announced that he had reconsidered about the kingship, everyone near Artos turned to watch his reaction. He smiled pleasantly, feeling the support and love coming from his family next to him, and did not otherwise react.

Cornel reinstated Ludovicus as his heir. The big young elf stepped forward and knelt for the king's kiss of peace; once raised, he drew Artos forward and kissed him as well, in token of their understanding.

As the Night elves began to understand that Artos stepped down willingly, a cheer went up. They seemed happy to have Ludovicus reinstated without conflict. Artos walked back to his foster family with a smile on his face; his mother hugged him with a soft smile. "Still proud of you," she whispered.

Cornel then invited Lovino to speak.

"My friends and family, my new friends and old," he began. "My father fell in battle mere days after publicly naming me his heir. He was a wise elf, and trained me well – trained me to be king of the Southern elves, a clan at war with the North.

"This is no longer the case. We are not at war, and it is my wish – indeed, the wish of all my family," he smiled, extending a hand to bring Feli forward, "that we will never be at war with the North again. That the two clans will mingle and merge, forming one community with not only the strength of the North but the peace of the South.

"Understanding that, I have thought for a long time on the role of the Southern kingship. Ultimately I have concluded that there is no need for a second king in this large group of family and new friends." He paused. Dark elves began murmuring, perhaps wondering what Lovino would say next.

"To this end, we have worked together to create a ruling council of sorts, to take the place of the Southern kingship. Working with Ludovicus from the North, my brother Feli, and also Kiku, whom you know as a fair and honorable elf, will stand together to guide the combined clans into a new and harmonious future, peaceful and safe."

"What about you?" Rodri called out. "Why are you not part of this council?"

Lovino stood proud, but Artos tensed; this was the part they had feared.

His lover took a deep breath and said firmly, "I have long desired to see more of the wide world than is encompassed in our Southern lands. And – and Artos has expressed a wish to do the same." He stopped and smiled at the blond. "When the matters of the clan have been settled, we will journey forth together to learn what we can about the lands and peoples beyond."

A susurration grew around the field. Artos heard someone behind him say quietly, "I would like to do that also." He was burning with curiosity but did not dare turn. Lovino let the buzz build until it reached a loud pitch and then raised his hand for silence.

"Does this mean the rest of us may journey?" Elfred asked hesitantly, looking from Artos to Lovino and back again. "I too have always wondered what lies beyond our walls. I would like to have an adventure myself!"

The sound of murmuring voices spread again, and Lovino invited Cornel to speak with a sweep of his hand.

"Day elves and Night," the king intoned. "There is indeed no reason to remain cooped up in the walls of the North, or in the cities of the South. For too long we have each remained isolated. There is no restriction on travel; anyone from the Night clan who wishes to go is welcome to do so."

"And from the Days as well," Lovino echoed. "We cannot learn, cannot develop, if we remain isolated."

He walked back to Artos, who finally allowed himself to turn in place and scan the crowd. Everyone was eagerly speaking; the noise level was almost unbearable. Lovino took his hand. "It sounds like we have started a revolution, little one."

The blond smiled. "A revolution that began with a kiss."

…

A few weeks later, many changes were evident in the area. Quite a few of the younger elves had departed in groups or alone, seeking adventure; many, however, chose to stay, to raise families, to help the clans develop in their new role together. Lovino and Artos had waited until things had seemed to settle, before beginning to plan their departure.

Ludovicus and Feli now lived openly together, sharing Roma's hilltop home. Lovino had gifted it to them gladly, thankful that his young brother had a strong friend to protect him.

"Ve, you know you can always come back and live with us, Lovi."

His brother smiled. "It may be that I won't see you for a long time."

"I know. Keep safe." He kissed Lovino and then embraced Artos.

Ludovicus bowed to Lovino and then clasped hands with his old comrade. "The clans will be secure," he promised.

"We know." Artos bowed to them both. "Stay well."

He and Lovino stepped outside the beautiful brick home. They mounted identical grey horses, spoils of the battle, which had been gifted to them by a grateful Cornel. Artos' mount carried his bow; Lovino wore his short sword at his side.

"Ve, goodbye!" Feli called from the doorstep, waving madly, Ludovicus calm and smiling beside him.

As their horses moved sedately down the hill, Artos and Lovino shared a grin before turning back to wave. "All will be well."

"With them as well as us, little one," Lovino laughed, taking his hand and kissing it. "Let us go forth and seek our adventures."

The road before them was completely empty. With a cheeky grin Artos turned to face forward and called out, "Race you!" He spurred his mount into a gallop, hearing his lover's laughter behind him, and they dashed forward into their future, together.

…

_One of my working titles for this story was "Axis Elf Clan."_


	12. The Mysteries of Beyond

**The Mysteries of Beyond.**

Many years later, Artos and Lovino walked down a well-used path, heading for a place known only as "the Sea." A passing traveler had spoken so intently of it that they'd changed their course, heading still further south, to see what it was like. The two walked in the quiet of the pre-dawn darkness, holding hands as always. Artos felt his mind beginning to drift back to old memories.

The two of them had returned to the North enclave only once, about a year after their departure, to find everything radically changed. The Northern development had been almost completely abandoned, as Night elves found it easier to move to the more advanced Southern areas than to restructure the existing compound. There were a few families here and there – now consisting of Night and Day elves together, as they had hoped – who kept the forest and the old ways alive.

No one had heard from Elfred in all that time, and his parents, as well as Cornel, had died in the interim. Artos had felt bereft and weak, and only the strong presence of Lovino at his side had kept him from sliding into deep despair.

"Let us leave," Lovino had finally suggested, after two days of depression in the deserted area. "Let us go to the South and see how my brother is faring."

This they had done. Feli and Ludovicus had prospered, ruling the combined clans with Kiku to assist. But the kingship was no longer. Instead, the ruling council had expanded to contain six elves from each clan, and truthfully? A council was not strictly necessary. But Feli had told them that the clans had demanded it.

They had been almost as uncomfortable there as they had been in the North. In just that short time the Southern styles and love of art had taken over almost everyone who lived there, so that Artos' rustic green cloak and boots, and even Lovino's serviceable dark cloak, had appeared coarse and ancient. A full day in the area had been so awkward that, without even needing to ask his companion, Lovino had bid Feli farewell in the evening. They had both wanted to leave the place where neither now felt at home.

That had been several years ago. Artos had never once regretted his decision to give his heart to his dark elf, to leave the clans, to travel.

They'd sold their fancy horses early on, preferring instead to travel on foot. Encountering strange new races, elves of different colors, unusual animals, dwellings and people, they'd ventured in ever-widening circles. And last week they'd met a merchant who had spoken so glowingly of the Sea – "Endless water, as far as you look! They say there are fabulous countries on the other side, countries where the trees are as tall as mountains and the grass grows pink and blue!" – that they'd been inspired to visit it for themselves. Artos sighed and kissed Lovino's hand as they walked, filled with interest about the great water.

"My love?" Lovino asked him. His dark hair was slightly threaded with silver now, although he was still young. "Is all well?"

Artos, caught up in his reminiscences, smiled and kissed his knuckles again. "I am – simply thinking. Thinking back on the day that changed my life."

"I think of it constantly," Lovino agreed.

"I feel very silly, having thought I could capture you."

"But you did, Artos. You captured me completely." They shared a chuckle before pushing through the underbrush.

"Oh!" Artos lost his breath.

The two of them were now standing on a narrow strip of soft, shifting earth, pale yellow and grainy, and before them in the sunrise glittered something that could only be the endless Sea. "It is magnificent," Lovino breathed, staring at it.

Artos did not speak. He was lost in the grandeur of the scene; he stepped closer and embraced Lovino without taking his eyes off the shining waters.

"I – I wonder," Lovino finally spoke, after a long while, but did not continue.

"What do you wonder?"

"I wonder whether there are boats strong enough to cross it? Do elves venture across? Has anyone truly seen the lands on the other side?" He leaned against Artos, finally turning his beloved amber eyes on his friend.

The blond kept his arms around him. "Perhaps we could find out."

"You – you mean, just get on a boat and go?" Lovino's eyes widened and he began to grin.

"Ah. I – I actually meant to find someone and ask," Artos laughed, "but since it clearly intrigues you so much, I am happy to see whether we can locate someone willing to take us."

"You would chance it?" Lovino gestured towards the water. "A boat might founder; if storms or something pushed it off its course? It seems dangerous." He shivered slightly in Artos' arms.

"Where you go, so will I," Artos promised him, as once he had promised years ago. "That will never change."

"Then let us have a new adventure. Let us find a boat to take us to the unknown lands." Lovino cupped Artos' face in his hands and kissed him. "Together."

"Agreed." Artos gestured to the strange shifting earth. "Shall we sleep now, and search later?"

Lovino took his hand and led him to a stand of long waving grass. "Not sleep just yet, beloved. Let us sit and dream, watching the Sea."

As they sat in the nest of long grass stalks, Lovino stared up at the lightening sky, and said the same prayer he said every morning at sunrise. Artos responded, taking him in his arms, and they celebrated the day together.

…

_The end. Thank you for reading and for all your encouraging reviews._


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